Shrimp
by mjoyc
Summary: After Emily goes into hiding, Doyle tracks her down and offers her a deal. Caught between a rock and a hard place she takes the deal falling right into her nemesis hands. Rating may go up due to some disturbing themes later on.
1. Chapter 1

March 29, 2011

Before she even opened her eyes a stabbing pain cursed her body from her lower abdomen. It was hard to breathe, her experience told her it was probably due to the fact that half her ribs were broken. Her cheekbone was broken. Something else tingled, she felt her skin tear around it. Then, it hit her. The four leaf clover burnt into her chest. Doyle. Doyle had shoved a stake in her stomach and then he'd kept asking for what he wanted the most. More than he wanted her dead.

She remembered what Morgan had told her just before everything had gone blank. He'd told her he was proud of her, for what she'd done. Nobody knew about what she'd done. Nobody knew_everything_ she'd done. Doyle sure knew what'd happened between the two of them, the team knew more or less about the whole operation, Clyde knew more than them and still there were so many things she'd kept from him too. To protect him. To protect herself.

She lifted slowly her hand with no real result. She tried again. Nothing. She wanted to sit up, but it hurt to breathe, her heart was beating so hard it hurt. She wanted to talk to the team, to explain why she'd done all of this, why she'd lied to them. Frankly she didn't even know why she crossed the line, well, she was far past the line. Lauren had somehow taken over her. She needed to tell them, reassure everyone she wasn't Lauren, Lauren Reynolds hadn't died, but she was secured in one of the neatly closed boxes in the back of her head.

She caught a glimpse of Clyde through the half closed blinds. She could see him talking to what she imagined to be a doctor, a few nurses. She couldn't see anyone else, she couldn't see her teammates. Had they been so mad? So mad they wouldn't even visit her in the hospital? No, Morgan had told her clearly he didn't hate her. He hadn't just said that because she seemed to be about to die.

Accidentally pulling one of the wires connected to the heart monitor, causing it to beep wildly, she got some attention. The doctor, nurses and Clyde rushed into the room.

"Glad to see you finally awake." a thick british accent greeted her.

She grunted, her gaze fixated to the door, awaiting her friends and family to step in any minute. The nurses that finished to check on her left the room and shut the door behind them. She looked up to Clyde expectantly.

"Plus tard." he murmured, glancing at the doctor checking her vitals. He sat down next to her on the bed and gently took her hand. Normally she would have slapped his hand away, scolding him for how clichèd the gesture was. Not now.

She realized then, if he was trying to comfort her somehow, something bad had happened and as far as she knew she'd been the only one admitted with a pierced belly. Her eyes started to well up with tears and in a split second she remembered Doyle hadn't died, he'd escaped. He could have hurt one of her people. He wanted so bad to know where Declan was. Her mind shifted unconsciously to Garcia. She was the first one she'd go to find someone. Maybe he did to.

As the doctor left the room, Clyde waited a few seconds after he shut the door and turned to her again. "Everyone's alright. And dead worried about you."

Her chest fell, she'd been holding her breath, uncounsciously. She opened her mouth to reply, she couldn't form words, all she got out was a strangled gasp.

"I'm getting you water." he affirmed before sitting back next to the bed. He helped her drink a little.

She closed her eyes for a few seconds and then opened the up again. "Where is everyone?"

"We need to talk about that."

Her eyes widened. "You said I was the only one hurt." she whispered. "What are you not telling me? Are you making it an habit to keep things from me?" a little angrier than the first time she added.

He shook his head and smiled warmly. "You're not going to like this." at her nod he continued. "Jeremy sold the list to Doyle, when we didn't tell you about Doyle being in North Korea it was because we thought..."

"Tsia had switched sides too?" she asked, hurt to know her former colleague, whom she'd trust and considere a friend, had betrayed them, her. "Did she?"

"No," he shook his head vigorously. "but I couldn't be sure. I had to protect you. I'm a man of my word and when I promised nothing would happen to you while you were with Doyle I meant it, so until we catch him I'll be your ghost."

Emily was shaking her head already. "Don't even think about it." she smiled slightly. "You'd do it just so that you can follow me in the shower."

He chuckled and squeezed his friend's forearm. "Probably." he turned serioud then.

Silence fell.

"Wait," she said warningly. "where _is _eveyone?"

He looked at her into her eyes, still for about ten seconds.

"No, no, no, no, what's going on, that look," she agitated and nodded up at his face, "the last time I saw that look, you told me I had to go undercover with Doyle."

"Calm donw please." he said calm and emotionless. "You know how this works. Doyle escaped. You're alive. You're the key to find his son."

A tear fell on her cheek. She didn't exactly know where he was going with this, but if she was sure of something, this was everything but good.

"Your team is in Quantico, right now, working." he said criptically.

She looked at him puzzled. Not only they weren't there, but they were working? "Working?" her voice cracked.

He moved the closest he could to the bed. "They're just finishing their week off rotation after your funeral."

Woah. So much information in a bunch of words. She felt suffocating, the meaning of his phrase barely sinkin in. "My," she croaked. "_funeral_? Am I dead?"

He smiled reassuringly, although she felt like anything but. "You've been in an induced coma for two weeks. After the medics rescued you in the warehouse, in order to save and protect you and your team, we faked your death."

"We?"

"Me, Agent Jeruau and Agent Hotchner. We're now in Canada in a safe location." he finished, waiting for her to ask whatever was on her mind.

"JJ?" last time she checked she still worked for the DOD.

He nodded slightly. "Hotchner asked to come and help find you."

"No," she shook her head. She'd survived her suicide plan and she couldn't go back to her team, her family. "You can't do this. You can't hurt them like this, they'll never forgive me. I wanna see them."

Clyde smiled as he saw her eyes water, he knew she would soon realize this had been the better decision and he also was well aware that she never, hardly, broke down. "Look at me," he waited for her to comply. "It's just a precaution. We need you and everyone else to be safe, you won't be alone, it's like when you went undercover, you're a different person, an alias, but we all have your back."

"What's going to happen now?"

"First you're going to heal and then you'll take it easy and start your temporary life as one of the identities you'll be given." he'd noticed tears hadn't touched her cheeks, she'd considered his answer good enough. For the time being. "You won't even think about Doyle, while a trained team takes him down, understood?"

She nodded. She'd spent the last couple of weeks alone, not totally, but on her own for sure. She'd planned to let Doyle kill her, she'd planned to pay for her mistakes not caring how much that would cost her, as long as it would cost something to her only. She was wrong though. She hadn't considered how her death, or disappearence, for that matter, would hurt her team and all the people she was close to. She survived, but those said important people she now realized she could hurt were hurting anyway, for no reason apparently. She was alive, but they had to think she was dead, gone, forever.

"Wasn't there any other way to do this?" she asked softly.

Her former boss looked at her. He knew just how smart she was, but when it came to emotional attachment she could sometimes be so blind. Thankfully or unfortunately she wasn't attached to many people, she could barely count them on her fingers. "No, love. But I want to promise this though, we will catch Doyle and you will come back to your family. Those folks love you too much and they're such good profilers they kept their cool and found you, when others would have lost it."

Her eyes lit up with pride. Her folks were the bestest. Of course they wouldn't lose it. "I know, they're the best ever."

"Should I be offended?" he said with mocked hurt in his voice. "You know I care for you just as much, right?"

She squeezed his hand with all she had. She did care for him, hell they'd even had their moment right before her assigment on the operation Valhalla. "You know I do. But it's different. We were-are really good friends, we even crossed the friendship line a few times, but my team, we're family, not just really good friends."

He remembered damn well when they crossed the line. Their job didn't allow for personal time, off time, so they decided to start a 'friends-with-benefits' kind of thing. Despite all their efforts not to get too attached they fell for each other and by the time they realized it she was Lauren Reynolds. They'd never talked about it again as she'd been pretty shaken up after the the arrest. "I think I understand."

She smiled at him through sleepy eyes. "Yeah well, we didn't see each other for more than seven years for some reason, but whenever I'll be allowed to be Emily again we need to keep in touch."

"Sure." he noticed the drowsiness in her voice and added. "Now rest. You'll need plenty to get better. I'll drop by to see you when you'll be released and explain the situation. But right now, sweet dreams, Emily."

She withdrew her hand under the cover when he let it, feeling the cold replace the only human contact she was going to have for months, years maybe. The only friendly face she would see in a indefinite time.

Her thoughts shifted back to her colleagues, to Morganìs anguished eyes when she'd been rushed to the OR. Reid pained face as he confided her his medical condition. Garcia's bubbly attitude, Rossi's protecivness. She even thought about how mad Hotch must've been.

She wanted to explain, to tell them how things went, but she couldn't, she couldn't because they thought she was dead and to keep them safe that was the only certainty they were going to have until she'd come back. But, would she, come back? That she didn't know, and even if she did everything was going to be different. They would probably never forgive her, she would never gain their trust again or their confidence.

For a moment, while waiting for sleep to come, she seriously considered the fact that she would be better off dead, for real.

* * *

><p><em>AN First story I publish here, it may suck, it probably does, but I like it so I decided to share it. Keep also in mind i wrote this while i was home with the flu and very high fever, I rechecked it a few times, but i could have missed some mistakes. Review please, i welcome all the constructive criticism and all the notes. Title seems to have nothing to do with the story, but it'll be explained. :D_


	2. Chapter 2

April 6, 2011

Morgan heard a sharp knock to the door of his office. He really wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone at all, but of course as FBI Agent he was supposed to act as nothing happened when he was working. He tried so hard to act like it was all the same, only it wasn't, not by far. He couldn't bring himself to pass by Emily's desk, not even look at it, despite that he had no problem staring at the picture on the wall. For some strange reason he found that comforting, like someway to keep his departed colleague with them everyday.

"Come in." he murmured, not really looking up from the file report he'd been finishing.

He heard a door open and close and someone took a seat right in front of him. For a second he didn't look up. He knew who was. Or at least he was certain it wasn't Garcia, Reid or Hotch. Rossi. Seaver didn't really have that much confidence to come into his office. She'd just bonded with Rossi.

He met the older man's gaze. He seemed to have gotten twenty years older in the last few weeks. His wrinkles more pronounced, he just wasn't as fast as he had been just the month before. Derek at his sight looked briefly to his lap and then back at him. "You need something?"

Rossi stared for a few seconds without replying. "Just here to check if everything's okay."

"I'm fine." he said hastily, ever since the funeral, he'd tried so bad to be strong for everyone, he'd succeeded. Almost, he was trying to be strong for everyone but himself. He'd cried himself to sleep a couple of times, but as soon as he'd realized he could cry all the tears he wanted and that wouldn't bring Emily back, he'd just stopped. He'd been feeling rather apathic, maybe he was depressed, maybe it was just grief.

When Rossi didn't just stand and leave he felt slightly irritated by the man's attitude. "If you want to ask something go right ahead."

And Rossi nodded. He pulled his chair a little bit closer to the desk. "I just would like to know a thing, I hope you won't think I'm intruding your personal life."

The bald Agent relaxed visibly, for no real reason. "Ask."

"Why did you get so mad when we found out Emily slept with Doyle?" he asked, but then wanting to clarify, given the man's puzzled face, he added. "What I mean is, I got mad, everyone got mad when JJ told us what she did." he stopped a second just to make sure Morgan was still following him. "But you seemed to take it personally or anyway harder than us."

Morgan just shook his head. He'd hoped they wouldn't come to this. Seriously, but he knew he'd lost it. For a second he'd thought of his former partner as some kind of terrorist. They'd always got along so well and when she disappeared he went against her as soon as he was given that chance to, that is, after he found out that detail about her operation.

"I just.. I guess I would have never expected to hear something like this about her." he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to blink away the still forming tears. "I had this really clear image in my mind of her with that... with a terrorist. I flipped." he sniffled.

Rossi nodded, not believing one word his colleague had just said. He'd been mad at Emily, he hadn't sympathized. "But that's not what was bugging you, isn't it?"

Morgan looked at Rossi. He was pleading him with his eyes to stop, stop asking and prying. "Rossi, man-"

"You can not to answer. I won't be offended, I just wondered."

He nodded, a lot like Emily had done before telling him what she'd gone through in Rome. "I don't know if I should tell you – well – it's just," he paused to put together words. He didn't want to say her name, he hadn't been able to yet. "she decided we would keep it between us. I'm not sure whether I should tell you."

"Well, try to think if you were in her shoes, what would you want? Granted there's no right or wrong answer and also everyone is different... it's your call." Rossi shrugged while offering a warm smile to the younger man sitting before him.

Morgan nodded. "Back when she joined the team, we used – we used to go out sometimes all together for drinks. One night we had a bit too much to drink. Reid offered to take us both home since we lived a few blocks away. When he dropped us I walked her to her door and we had this drunken moment. We kissed, just that. Not just, but, you know?" he glared at the man, who gave him a barely perceptible nod. "The morning after we talked, well, she talked. She said she had this rule about not mixing business and pleasure. I agreed it would be best to pretend it never happened."

Rossi tilted his head. "You didn't actually agree, didn't you?"

"No man," he chuckled, remembering the sibling bond he'd formed with her over the years. "I knew she would want to settle down, start a family and that kind of stuff and I wasn't ready. But she'd said it in a way... I don't even know how to explain it. It sounded like one of her strongest rules, something she wouldn't go against in a million years. So when I heard she'd slept with someone on the line of work to get a profile I saw red. I'm just glad I at least told her how I felt, eventually."

Rossi nodded. This was the reason. He hardly believed Morgan when he said he agreed with Emily not pursuing any kind of relationship based on a drunken kiss. But he also was fairly sure any of them would have risked their careers for something that didn't hold guarantees.

Right there his first thought was to get up and go ask her personally, remembering just in time he wouldn't find anyone sitting at her desk or answering her phone. The news hadn't really sunk in for him. He could see it had hit Morgan, both of them had been strong for the whole team, the only difference was Morgan went home every night alone to drink or cry or watch meaningless tv, while he would go to the church sometimes and others would just sleep. He still saw her car in the Bureau lot every morning even though it wasn't there for real.

Morgan looked at him for a second. "Why does it seem like it's not affecting you in the least? You and Hotch act like nothing happened at all."

Rossi just shook his head and his lips stretched in a half smile. "I'm trying to find my peace. Trying to make sense of what happened."

"How's that going?"

"It's not." he simply answered. "I can't see the point in what happened."

Morgan frowned. "How so?"

Rossi shrugged his shoulders. "Emily went on a suicide mission to protect us. She wanted to stop Doyle from finding his son, she wanted to stop him from hurting people. The only one who lost is her. She did everything and more to take him down the first time. She crossed the line to protect his son from the North Koreans and from him. She was easily on of the best people I've ever met and I feel like she died for nothing."

Morgan nodded. Rossi had probably never spoken truer words. "She was." he chuckled. His eyes were watery. "She had everything." he saw as Rossi looked at him expecting him to go on. "She was smart, funny, attractive, beautiful, brave, trustworthy... I don't know man, how could someone hurt such a good person?"

They waited a couple minutes in silence.

Rossi was quite confident he could add a bunch of adjectives to Morgan's list, which was very accurate, that would fit perfectly. Truth is they'd relied on her so much, without even noticing, that having her gone so suddenly was having a much more bigger impact than they thought it would.

"I have no idea. I can tell you this though. Ian Doyle fell in love with her, granted it was her alias, it was still her, it was a part of her. She might have even felt something for him too." he saw Morgan wince visibly at the admission, they both knew could very well be true. "He loved her so much he proposed to her, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. And then he found out it was all act. The woman he'd fallen for was fake. None of that had been real, or well, part of that, but he's intelligent enough to know that even if she'd felt something real for him, there was no way they'd have a chance."

Morgan stared at him wide-eyed. "You're saying he did the right thing killing her."

"No, that's not my point. What I'm saying it's that it was a crime of passion he just took his revenge. Still not saying it's right, but I at least can understand why he did it."

Morgan nodded, his eyes shifting to the little photo of him and Emily he had placed on his desk. "You said you're trying to find peace. Doesn't this represent some kind of, I don't know-"

He held up a hand in front of him. "I know what you're saying." he stopped to phrase the next sentence the best he could. "That means I understand why Doyle would do something like that, counting he thought she was the reason his son was dead, but I can't figure out what the plan was for Emily. As I told you she went on a suicide mission, she died and Doyle survived. We got nothing, even if we tried to start an investigation we wouldn't find anything. I feel like there's something missing."

Morgan wiped a lonely tear from the corner of his eye before it could fall. She was surely and definitely gone and no superhero moves or magic trick were going to bring her back. "Emily's missing."

* * *

><p><em>AN This was already written and it's not going to go this fast from now on, it might, but not this week at least. I structured this whole thing this way: for a while, 5 to 8 chapters, it's going to be alternating Emily and one of the team. I'll try and do one for each character, but I'm not totally sure, then you'll have to see._

_Huge thank you to everyone that has reviewed, it means a lot. Hope this isn't too boring, see ya chicos :) _**  
><strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Hola. I got so many alerts! You guys are awesome :D. Thanks to everyone that reviewed, too. Took me so long to get this done. the dialog resembles more or less the one in the episode, i haven't memorized it. if you think it's going too slow or it's too boring just tell me, this part isn't COMPLETELY necessary I can speed it up a little. **

**If you didn't notice I added dates, to keep better track of everything.**

April 18, 2011

JJ slipped in the SUV parked right in front of the Pentagon's gate. It was a black issue SUV, the kind the BAU and generally government associations would use. The windows were black, although she knew exactly who she'd find inside.

She was scheduled to meet British SIS Clyde Easter. He would give her Emily's identities and she would fly to wherever Emily was to give them to her. It still surprised her how sometimes this sounded so easy.

She got in the car without even looking at the suit clad guy who'd opened the car door for her. She sat on the beige leather seat and turned tentatively to Clyde, who was sitting on the opposite side of the back seat.

"Agent Jareau." he greeted.

She smiled and shuffled a bit closer, not wanting the driver, as qualified and trained as he probably was, to know all of their upcoming conversation. "Clyde."

"Already hitting on me?" he teased, hoping to lighten the mood. "I don't think your husband would appreciate it."

JJ grinned. Emily must have loved working with the pig version of Morgan. "Just so you know, first I'm not married and second, you can call me JJ as everybody does."

He looked at her for a second. He was looking for an hint that told him not to trust her. He'd had enough of inter team betrayal recently, despite his paranoia Emily had sworn up and down he could trust JJ with his own life, she'd told him she was absolutely the best in what she did. So he did, trust her, but not completely. "Alright JJ, let's get into business mode."

Emily had got off a plane in Paris just a couple of days before she had to meet JJ. She was still adapting to the fact that she, Emily, was dead, she would probably not see her family for a very long time. She had to face still about three weeks of bed rest and even after that she would never wear a bikini again or show off her cleavage without someone noticing the clover burnt in her chest or the still healing scar covering her stomach.

Some nameless guard, CIA body guard had taken her from the hospital in the middle of Arizona to a little airport where a private jet, which resembled painfully the BAU jet, was waiting for her. She felt miserable ever since she left the country to fly to Europe. She'd done it before, countless times, but still, this time she knew she couldn't just go back whenever she started feeling nostalgic.

When the plane took off she winced, normally her stomach would drop low, the new scar made that just that much painful. She kept drifting on and off sleep, thanks to the painkillers and load of other medications, everytime she opened her eyes she felt the disappointment in not seeing her colleagues staring at her with amused faces.

She already knew everything she was going to have to do. They had planned the next couple of days for her, nanosecond-wise.

She was dropped off at a modest hotel, registered with a fake name that was going to change anyway before the end of the week. She'd settled on the bed and stared out the window, which was showing a beautiful angle of Notre Dame, for awhile.

She had literally nothing to do. No one to call to reassure she'd made it in one piece, no emails or texts to check, no book to read, no camera to take pictures. She didn't even have a pencil to write or draw something.

She laid on the bed gently, resting her head on the cotton clad pillow. Her mind shifted once again to what was happening at the moment. She couldn't quite say the realization of it all had sunk in yet.

She'd gone to Doyle, to try and stop him. To keep him from killing anymore innocent people. She was innocent, in the eyes of the law, but she never thought of her as such. She'd tricked the man so she could get some intel on his business. She never expected him o fall for her. She's had her fair share of delusions in love over the years to know it hurt so damn much. Granted it wasn't her, it was Lauren, who'd been specifically told to be an easy, yet sophisticated, attractive weapons dealer. Nobody ever told her out loud to seduce him. She hadn't seduced him. He'd fallen in love and clearly he wanted to cover all the bases in their relationship.

She would be lying then if she said she didn't like it. It. To be loved and worshiped by one of the most dangerous men she knew. To feel his hands all over her body, feel like she was the center of this man's world.

She liked the feeling of someone holding her at night, safe, from harm, nightmares and just be relatively relaxed. He was ready to sacrifice his own life to save hers. Sure she had no doubt all her team would do that for her too, it was different. The man wanted to spend his entire life with her, and the most pathetic thing was that over the years she realized that that assignment undercover had been the longest and most successful relationship she'd ever had. That's why she'd kept the ring.

On the other side the man was a weapons dealer, a ruthless killer, a terrorist. She wouldn't have never fallen for him. She'd bared it when she was with him. She would think of him as just her boyfriend, lover, when they were together, that helped to go through the first few days without vomiting. Then she got used to it, she liked the feeling of him, she hated him. To average her feelings she could very well affirm she'd learned to live with him.

All of this, before he escaped prison.

Emily realized she'd still been feeling JJ's absence and as much as she liked the new addition, she'd wished nothing had changed. Doyle had now destroyed her life, not in the way he'd meant, and despite that it felt even worse like this.

He'd tortured her, branded her. He'd shoved a wooden table leg in her belly. Whatever feelings she might have tried to hide to have seven years before, were now definitely gone. When he got to her, before she 'died', she didn't feel the same way as she had all those years back, she could probably say that Lauren had fallen completely in love with Ian Doyle and Lauren had been-was a part of her, would always be. Whether she liked it or not. You cannot just turn yourself off and become a totally different person.

She'd just divided her two identities as a brain. The rational side being Emily, the most abstract, creative side being Lauren. It'd worked, it's compartmentalization, and she was the queen of compartmentalization.

She just fell asleep like that. Lost in her thought and with the strong feeling she would have to get used to this.

The morning after she felt knocking to her door. No one knew she was there. She motioned to open the door. Worst chance being Doyle, she very well knew he wouldn't want to kill her, at the moment.

To her surprise she didn't see a soul when she eventually opened. Just a yellow note on the ground. Carefully she picked it up and read. _Vendange Royale, Rue de L'Université, 8pm._

She quickly pulled it inside and shut the door behind her. She knew exactly what the note meant, it meant she was definitely killing Emily. In that exact moment she realized her life, until Doyle got killed, was going to be like this, all the secrecy, all the danger, all to protect her family. She couldn't even start a family on her own. She couldn't have friends she couldn't have a soul to talk to.

She felt a tear slip down her cheek and wiped it right away, as though someone could see her.

She sat at one of the little rounded tables at the café, typical Paris café, as she read the newspaper, not really reading, but just looking at the pictures to distract her self. She was there at 8pm on the dot, while whomever was scheduled to meet with her was definitely late, because at almost half hour later nobody had shown up yet.

She pondered for a second whether to stay or go back to the hotel, as she'd been said, she was to exit the hotel only in case she was ordered to. When she looked up she saw a blond walking towards her and when she sat in front of her she finally recognized her. JJ. She'd come all the way to Paris. All she wanted was to hug her, to ask her about the team, to get more details.

They stared into each others eyes for about a minute, in JJ's mind the thoughts weren't so different than the ones in Emily's.

Emily looked at her friend's eyes, it had been too long since she'd last seen her and now she had no clue when she'd see her again, or any of her friends for that matter. She was coming to terms with it, being away from her family, and sure enough the horror of the situation would truly sink in as soon as she felt the need to ask Garcia to back-check someone, or Reid if he knew something.

She couldn't quite read into JJ's mind, she was too good. She saw as she took out a green thick envelope from her bag. She quietly passed it across the table and didn't let it go until Emily grabbed it. "Passports from three different countries and a bank account in each one to keep you comfortable." she stated briefly. So many things she wanted to say, so many reason not to.

Emily accepted the package and stared at it for a second. She wanted to talk to her, she wanted to explain how things really went, she was one of her best friends after all. But she couldn't, not until she could become Emily Prentiss again. She felt her eyes water and probably JJ heard how her voice broke when she offered a simple, "Thank you."

JJ, noting her friend close breakdown, she hadn't seen her flinch once in nearly five years, smiled reassuringly. Doyle had shaken her up good. She tried to pass all her strength with just her eyes, she couldn't touch her she couldn't say anything more comforting. She'd been trained for hours for this brief encounter. "Good luck."

Emily nodded, almost imperceptibly, she gathered all her things and with a last apologetic smile she took off.

She started wandering in the streets of Paris. She'd visited the city so many times, but it still amazed to see the Tour Eiffel lit up every night. She dragged her body to her favorite place in the city. One of the bridges over the Seine, from which she could clearly see Notre Dame. Despite her discomfort with churches in general and religion too, she still found it one of the best cathedrals, along with the Sagrada Família in Barcelona, in the world, or the big part she'd visited anyway.

Once she leaned over the thick concrete edge of the bridge she let the tears flow. She was clutching the green envelope like a lifeline, which by the way, _was _ a lifeline, because she was legally dead without. And that is just how pathetic and depressing her life had just become.

Emily eventually made it back to the hotel, she'd wiped her tears and composed herself. She didn't want to draw too much attention, although the clothes she'd been given didn't really help, bright white coat and black stiletto boots.

She sat on the bed and breathed deeply. She was sore, very sore. She shouldn't have walked that much. The doctor had said she'd better not walk at all if she wanted to heal in a decent amount of time, still countable in weeks.

Grabbing the prescription bottle from her bag she swallowed the pill and let it start acting. She rid of the coat and uncomfortable boots, throwing them down the bed, while she lay on her side facing the envelope. In a quick move she grabbed it and carefully opened it.

She emptied all the contents on the bed, three passports, papers and a smaller envelope. She opened the passports. Italy, Germany, New Zealand. She couldn't quite see the reasoning behind the choice of the country, two of those were so close and the last one all the way in the opposite side of Earth. She didn't pay attention to the names. She'd have to learn to respond to the right one at the right time. She'd already done that several times.

She put all the documents back in the envelope and moved to its smaller companion. It was beige. She opened it slowly. JJ hadn't mentioned it. Weird.

There was a letter and a photo. The photo had been taken at the FBI Christmas party that past year. JJ had been invited personally by Chief Strauss. The whole team was there. Reid had an arm wrapped around JJ's shoulders, Rossi and Hotch were looking at the camera slightly leaning into each other, Morgan was hugging close both her and Garcia, Seaver was behind Reid, not aware the picture was being taken.

She saw a tear drop on the photo. She wiped it roughly, worried it could ruin the picture, which was plasticized, thanks to JJ. Sure enough the picture would look like the picture of Declan Doyle had shown her in a little while. Just, she didn't want to wait seven years to be able to go back, even if it meant she had to take Doyle down herself.

She picked up the letter. _Em, I'm so sorry for what's been going on and for what's going to happen to you. Remember you're not alone, we're here. I know you can't come, but whenever you feel alone or scared all you have to do is close your eyes and think back of all the good memories. Try not to do anything stupid, the team is here waiting for you. You won't be forgotten. Stay strong, we all love you soo much. -JJ_

Just like that she started to cry. She wanted to call JJ, so bad. Probably it was a good thing she didn't have a phone or else she might have caved. She didn't even realize she was sobbing. She was holding the picture of the team close to her chest. On the opposite side of the clover. She couldn't face Doyle, but she would give the 'trained team' so much time before she seriously considered taking him down for good.

* * *

><p><em>AN Hola. I got so many alerts! You guys are awesome :D. Thanks to everyone that reviewed, too. Took me so long to get this done. the dialog resembles more or less the one in the episode, i haven't memorized it. if you think it's going too slow or it's too boring just tell me, this part isn't COMPLETELY necessary I can speed it up a little._ _If you didn't notice I added dates, to keep better track of everything._ _Also, I've been to Paris, a couple of times and have actually been on that bridge, I have no idea whether it has a name, it's just bridge to me, if someone knows, share :)_

_Have literally no idea how long it'll take till the next update, but I'll make it in less than a week for sure._


	4. Chapter 4

30 April, 2011

She kicked the door closed and dropped heavily on the bed before her in a very unlady like way. She'd been staying in Venice for about a week. At first she thought it wasn't original enough, but than originality flew right out of the window when she saw for the second time in her life the Grand Canal along with the seagulls and the gondolas. She'd been there already the summer she graduated from high school. She'd flown back to the States with her father after what happened in Rome and finished high school there.

She would never, ever, admit it, but she missed traveling like crazy. Her all life had been moving and then all of a sudden she didn't even travel on Christmas break.

At the moment she knew she had to move again, at least find a place a bit more hidden. She thought of Milan, maybe she would stay in the suburban area, not the best, but it was good enough. She was going to move in a week maybe two, depending on how much more time she e felt like staying, it's not like she had anything better to do. She was staying in Italy because it was the only place that really felt like home besides the US, she couldn't obviously stay and France, from which she'd just run.

She hadn't taken Rome or Tuscany into consideration as a possible location, too many memories, while she's never been to Milan, maybe she's even in time for the fashion week.

She looked out of the window, still sometimes she expected to see the Capitol, and the DC lights. Some mornings she still woke up at six ready to hop in the shower and get ready for work. It had been almost two months, no matter how much she longed to be back, it wasn't going to happen in the short foreseeable future.

Opening the wardrobe in her room she took out sweat pants and an old t-shirt she'd swiped Morgan ages ago, which Clyde had provided her. She'd been wearing it so much in the last few weeks holes were starting to show in several places.

She entered the shower and was out in less than five minutes. Changing into her comfy clothes she switched on the tv to watch some mindless fiction. Her Italian was good enough that she could watch an original show, but she much preferred the dubbed version of CSI or Grey's Anatomy. It made her feel that much closer to home.

She must have fallen asleep, because a sharp knock to the door startled her. She rose quickly and opened.

It was a book. The cover had been remade and the pages were definitely yellow. Suggesting the book must be rather old. Emily opened it and turned a few pages to realize it was in Italian. It was Dante's Divine Comedy, Inferno. Sh found a red silky bookmark in the Canto V, where a few lines had been lightly underlined with a pencil.

"_Amor, ch'al cor gentil ratto s'apprende,  
>prese costui de la bella persona<br>che mi fu tolta; e 'l modo ancor m'offende._

_Amor, ch'a nullo amato amar perdona__,  
>mi prese del costui piacer sì forte,<br>che, come vedi, ancor non m'abbandona._

Amor condusse noi ad una morte.  
>Caina attende chi a vita ci spense.<br>Queste parole da lor ci fuor porte.

_._" v 100-108

It was one of her favorite parts, nobody knew about it though. Not the team, they really didn't know about her passion for classics, not Clyde, not anyone. Maybe Matthew or John knew, but she doubted that was their doing, mostly because being the former dead and the latter completely unaware of her being alive, or dead even.

She dropped the book on the nightstand, turned off the tv and slipped under the covers, trying to decipher the meaning of her latest found.

August 4, 2003

"Is it true?" inquired a really curious Ian Doyle at his newly found mate, as she rebuttoned her leather jacket sitting on the edge of the bed.

They'd met a couple weeks before, started business and one night after a couple of drinks, a dozen for Emily- well -Lauren, they'd kissed and later agreed there was surely some mutual attraction. Emily hadn't been given any specific order to seduce him, just use his attraction to her to her benefit, or rather the benefit of the whole operation.

After Jack introduced them, they started to go out and have non work related meetings. She was still getting used to respond to Lauren instead of Emily, while Ian had already brought her home, his home, a couple of times. _Man and testosterone_, she thought, _they make my job far too easy sometimes_.

"It's true. Don't be so surprised."

Her cover was based on her, almost totally on her, minus some important details, among which, her parents, Lauren's parents, were dead, she went to school to Italy and France because her father had business there. Her attitude was pretty much the same, minus Lauren didn't feel sick every time Ian kissed her or touched her or said cheesy, corny things to her.

In fact Lauren was the daughter of a terrorist, much like Ian, and a drug addict. Her mother disappeared when she was still very young and her father brought her up, but spent way too much time away from her. She loved school, studying and reading, too bad genetics worked their way into getting her in her father's business and run it after he passed. Ian had been somehow fascinated by her story. It reminded him so much of his and his son's. He would love if one day Declan took over running his deals.

His thoughts shifted to the beautiful, attractive woman next to him. She was getting dressed, she was going home. They'd had sleepovers, but she had an appointment with a buyer the next day, she couldn't afford to be late or tired, well too tired. "Next time we can read something together maybe." he tried. He was still trying to understand if she really liked him, or if she was screwing him as a stress relief. She'd just reveled to him how much she loved reading, she couldn't just flat out lie on somethings, so he took it as a way to connect with her, being himself a fan of ancient literature.

If she'd known about his insecurities, she would have burst out laughing. Emily turned suddenly at his proposition. Shed already forgotten she had just told him. "You bring the book, I'll bring my magnificent self. I'll call you after I'm done so we can work out the details." she bent over the bed to kiss him briefly and took off.

"I'll hold you onto that Lauren." he trailed off as he watched her form walking away.

As planned they met at his place, never hers, she'd better keep her place a secret until it was strictly necessary to take him there. He sometimes asked why they were always at his and never at Lauren's, so in a short time he'd probably demand to visit the place.

He'd brought Dante's Inferno. "The Canto V is definitely my favorite part." he said amazed at the words on the paper.

That surprised Emily big time. A terrorist with a such a refined taste in literature. "You're right it's probably one of the best. Although the Canto I has some potential."

He looked at the book for some time. "But the story behind this one, a man shooting two lovers, a man shooting his brother and wife, it's so modern yet now we'd consider them martyrs while Dante still puts them in the Inferno and at the same time he gives this part a much more elevated meaning, through language, through the single words he uses."

"Mmm," she murmured thoughtfully, "this part is really unbelievable. They're rotting in hell and still he emphasizes with them, unlike others, he really is a genius."

Emily, Lauren, was laying on the bed holding her head up with her hand, Ian was laying on the other side of the book. She could tolerate this, imagining him as just the man who loved Lauren, made the trick, but whenever her eyes trailed ever so briefly over the scars on his forehead all came back to mind. She was trying her best to separate Emily and Lauren, her whole assignment was based on her compartmentalization skill, if she successfully learned how to separate Lauren and Emily, she could make it.

He looked at her, stared at her with the sweetest smile. She blushed and looked down at the printed page. "He's surely smart, but maybe he shouldn't really emphasize with them, after all they betrayed the trust of someone who loved them. I don't think I could emphasize with them."

That shocked Emily, a young Francesca had been forced to marry a older, not so appealing, rugged Giovanni, and then fell in love with his younger brother Paolo. One day Giovanni caught his wife and brother together and killed them on the spot. Sure Emily thought it was wrong, to cheat on someone, but hers hadn't been a marriage based on love, in the 1300s marriages rarely were. She could understand why she did it, just like Dante had. Emily, on the other hand, couldn't get Ian's point. "So you would kill even someone you love, if they betrayed you?"

Ian looked at her wide eyed. "Well, wouldn't you?" he shrieked. "You should be able to trust the people you love, not watch your back from them too."

Emily looked away for a moment, long enough for her to compose herself, quick enough not to draw too much attention.

He hadn't said it, he probably wouldn't for awhile, but Emily knew he loved her, or rather he loved Lauren. It'd been obvious for over a week now, she had no intentions of telling him, or let him know she knew. She'd managed not to sleep with him until now, she really didn't want to do it, but she'd come to terms with the fact that him falling for her meant it was inevitable. It was all about her holding off now, it would happen eventually.

She was going to betray him. She was just doing her job, sure, but it didn't made it easier. He loved her, she was going to betray her, he was going to want to kill her. Hopefully by the time he'd realize it was all an act he'd be locked up somewhere in a political prison in Siberia or anywhere he wouldn't evade easily.

"If it was someone I loved, I would hold a grudge for twenty years, but I don't think I could ever kill someone I love." not kill anyone, kill someone she loved. It was surprising sometimes how she got into Lauren so easily.

She remembered for no real reason the words of another author she personally adored, _you are who you pretend to be, so be careful who you pretend to be. _She surely missed Kurt Vonnegut, but she couldn't give away too much. Just the things no one else knew. Lauren was somehow Emily's part that nobody really knew. She was reckless just like Emily, alright, but she also killed without hesitating, she was into business with some of the most dangerous dealers, she showed feelings, she didn't bottle up, didn't shut everyone out. She didn't compartmentalize, well strictly speaking.

Ian took her hand and brought it to his mouth. He placed a feather like kiss on every knuckle. "You're way too good."

Lauren smiled. She cared about the man. Lauren, not Emily. He showed such care and adoration for her like nobody had ever, she was flattered, truth is, neither Emily had ever met someone that treated her as Ian did. She leaned in and kissed him, slowly, gently.

Usually whenever she started the kiss it was quick and most of the time on the cheek. She'd tried not to fall into her own trick, but she wasn't as good as she thought. He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. They were face to face and the rest of their bodies almost perfectly matched if not for the slight height difference.

Emily kept her hands pressed against his chest, as a defense pose, instinct, she hadn't really come to trust him. She would never trust him, she could trust his love for Lauren though. She could trust the fact that he would never do anything to her.

He deepened the kiss and moved his hand behind her back. He started rubbing circles, while he felt her hands creeping up his scalp, playing with the little hair he had. Her leg was wrapped over his hip. Ian let his hands slide downward, to her hip and lower. As she felt his hand overcome the boundaries she'd mentally put on touchable body parts she jerked and pulled away from him.

When she was far enough to look at him in the eyes she must have reacted so suddenly he hadn't even realized what had set her off, being his hand still on her. She smiled warmly to put any worry he might have away.

"What's wrong?" he asked worried. "You okay?"

She shook her head. If just he wasn't an arms dealer, a killer, the object of her assignment. Wait, no. she couldn't think like that.

Pushing away thoughts that seemed way too dangerous, she kissed him briefly. "No, I just..." she bit her lip. She was at loss of words. Her previous thoughts distracting her from her main goal. "Can we just sleep? I'm really tired, today's meeting was exhausting."

He looked at her for so long. His baby blue eyes looked so comforting and yet so dangerous. For the first time since she went undercover she felt at ease, she'd gained the man's trust and had gotten to know him well enough to know he wasn't going to try her and make her prove she was worthy of him.

Ian ran the back of his forefinger down her cheek, barely touching her skin. "Of course, love."

And she fell asleep just like that, against him, in his arms. In the arms of the man that loved her.

April 31, 2011

Emily jerked away in bed. It had been a dream, but it'd seemed so real.

Because it was real. One of the memories she'd thought she'd stored in the famous box along with Lauren Reynolds. Her brain must have been in the mood for some spring cleaning, messing with old dusty boxes. She longed for a second on the feelings from the dream, until the real meaning of the whole thing, the goal of her brain got her.

Dante. Inferno. Canto V.

Damn.

Ian Doyle had found her again. As he'd said, you fooled me once, you can't fool me twice. He must have checked whether she had been dead for real this time, before even believing it. It'd taken him two months to find her.

Damn.

* * *

><p><em>AN I rewrote this at least a thousand times. Next updates should be quicker, not making promises, though. Let me know what ya think. :)_


	5. Chapter 5

May 11, 2011

JJ passed the glass doors of the BAU. Hotch had called earlier with a huge issue. Human resources claimed Emily's desk and left the team the job of packing everything. Garcia had broken down saying they couldn't do it, along with Morgan. Reid on the other side still drew comfort sometimes by just looking at her desk, seeing her stuff on it, untouched, like she would come through the doors any minute. Seaver was silent, she'd been silent during the whole thing, Rossi had tried to talk to her, but got nothing. He himself hadn't really talked to anyone.

JJ took the chair out and sat on it.

"JJ." Reid greeted her. "What are you doing here?"

She smiled at the genius. "Just came to see if you need a hand with Em's stuff." her brain urged to add, _cause I have to bring it to the storage where the rest of her things are waiting for her to come back. _She couldn't really say anything that even remotely came close to that. It was a group made of some of the smartest people, if she did much as hint at Emily's possible return, they'd pick up on it immediately.

"Oh." he frowned and glanced up at her with sad eyes. "Do we really need to do that?"

"Yep." she patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, it won't be that hard. I should find Garcia."

Leaving a very confused Reid in the bullpen she made a beeline to Garcia's liar. Knocking softly, she let herself in. "Hey."

Garcia turned from her monitors to face her friend. "JJ," she breathed. "I don't wanna do it. We just can't get rid of her stuff. She..."

JJ walked to her friend and put a hand on her shoulder. She was more than aware Emily's death had totally and completely drained, destroyed Garcia. Morgan had told her a couple of times. She wished she could tell them, that Emily was alive, not safe, but alive none the less. She wished she could take the pain away, fix everything. She couldn't though and that hurt even more.

The worst thing was she'd seen Emily, who, partially due to the series of surgeries and to the recent events, had seemed in worst shape than the team and to think on both sides people were suffering and she, in the middle, couldn't do anything to lessen the pain on either side was nearly excruciating. "She would want us to move on and let her rest in peace. Can you do that?"

Garcia bit the inside of her cheek. No, she was not ready to bury her friend, even though she'd done it months ago, and let her be. She couldn't let go of her. Ever since Emily had left she'd changed. She didn't really trust her team mates on the field, not for an eventual lack of ability on their part, but because the one person she thought couldn't be touched that was somehow immortal had died, she worried all the others could get hurt too.

Feeling tears well up in her eyes she bear hugged JJ. "I can't let go of her JJ. I can't believe she's not here. She died alone and scared and probably aware Doyle escaped, she couldn't even kill him and have peace." she sniffled. "I can't let her go."

JJ run a hand up and down her friend's back, hating to see her like this. She kept going for more than five minutes, when she eventually said. "She didn't die alone."

"What?"

"Emily wasn't alone." she sat in front of Garcia, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, trying not to let her own fall. She had no idea how much Morgan had told her. "Morgan was with her until she lost consciousness. She was with him. She wasn't alone." her voice broke. She cursed herself. She needed to be strong, she could, she knew Emily was okay. She had no right to feel the loss as the tech before her did.

Garcia's eyes lit up and she started sobbing. "She was with him? He didn't tell me!" she yelled through the tears. "Derek, he told me she was in peace in the end, he didn't tell me he got to talk to her. He didn't tell me anything about that."

JJ just pulled again into a hug. "It's been two months. Not long enough to make sense out of any of what happened. Talk to him. Talk to each other, it helps Pen." she added petting her hair. "Let's go. Hotch asked me to come here for a reason."

She quickly got her blond friend to agree to go with her. It took all of them two hours to pack all their friend's stuff, among which they found chocolate, pictures, a squishy cat toy and earrings.

Morgan had put the last piece of tape on the box before handing it to JJ, who was going to take it to Emily's mother. The pained expression on the man's face as he put away the last things that showed Emily's time there was one of the things JJ had feared she would have gave into to relieve the team's pain, when she agreed to cover for Emily.

She collected the box and after hugging everyone she headed out.

There was no talking, everyone was floating in their own guilt, not willing to share. Each one returned to their desks of offices. Garcia lingered back a few minutes staring at her friend's desk. She felt tears knock and felt her heart ache. Literally. She was finally saying goodbye. It was hard, definitely, but she couldn't just be stuck like this.

She quickly made a beeline to Morgan's office entered without knocking and closed the door behind her back. When he turned to her she saw puffy red eyes looking up at her swollen ones. She felt bad, all she wanted to do was to run to him and hug him. She couldn't. She needed to get it out. "Why didn't you tell me?" she murmured a bit more harshly than she'd intended.

He looked at her puzzled. He'd really expected her to hug him, or to say something reassuring or to seek comfort. He surely didn't expect her to attack him. He frowned and shook his head. "What?"

She sank in the chair in front of him. She sniffled and counted to ten before continuing, it was no use crying while trying to get something. "Why didn't you tell me you were with her? I had at least the right to know! How she was, what she said!" she yelled while she lost the battle with tears.

Derek dumbfounded just shook his head. He wondered silently who'd told her, only Hotch knew. And JJ. JJ must have told her. It hadn't meant to keep it a secret, but he'd seen the stake in her abdomen, he'd seen the unrecognizable figure burnt into her chest, the bruises on her ribs and face. The medics had torn her shirt revealing all the damage to try and save her.

"I wanted to protect you." he said softly. "You're going through enough right now."

"You don't get to decide what I can handle. When at the hospital I asked you, you told me she was in peace." she calmed a bit before continuing. "You forgot to mention you spoke to her."

How could she know that? How could _JJ_ know that? He hadn't told anyone about talking to her, about what she'd said. He'd kept it from him, which either made him selfish for not sharing their friend's last words or altruistic for not hurting them letting them know how she gave up. He didn't want to talk about it. But Garcia wasn't letting him off the hook that easily. "I know." he went around his desk to sit on the small couch, patting the empty spot next to him, motioning her to sit next to him.

When she did he started talking. "You want to know everything? Because I agree you should, but you're still not sleeping at night and your more paranoid now when we leave for a case, I don't want to overwhelm you."

she snuggled next to him, letting her head on his shoulder. "Please, Derek. I _need_ to know."

She'd probably never called him Derek. It was always a corny nickname or Agent Morgan whenever Strauss was around. She was serious, dead serious. Bad play on words, but exactly the point. "Just remember I warned you." at her nod he started. "I was running in the warehouse when I got in a room, the ones Declan and Louise Jones' pictures were taken. I looked around and I saw her. "

As he heard her sniffle he thought about stopping. He was telling her what happened as a bed time story, trying to make it easier. "She was laying on the ground, still. Her hand were handcuffed and were laying on her stomach just above the... uh, the broken table leg Doyle stabbed her with." ignoring again the sobs he just squeezed her and kept going. "I called for her, she just looked at me through half closed eyes, she'd blood all over. She wasn't moving, so I put my hands on hers and she gripped my hand." he let his own tear fall, his voice had cracked.

He'd played it in his mind so many times he could shoot a movie and make it exactly the same. "I told her how proud I was of her for what she'd done. I told her to hang on. Then she looked at me, right in my eyes and she told me to let her go. Jut like that."

He stopped. He wasn't finished and frankly he wasn't sure if he could go on, whether it was to protect Garcia or himself.

"And you didn't say anything?" she chocked.

He chuckled through tears. "The hell I didn't. I would have kicked her ass if I could. I made it clear she had to make it, but..." he trailed off again.

"But?" she urged.

He nodded slowly, acknowledging her request. He took in a sharp breath. "But she was in pretty bad shape, I didn't want to even think it, but it would probably have been a miracle if she survived. When I saw how bad she was injured I honestly thought she wasn't going to make it."

Garcia was trembling. She'd been crying throughout the whole story and was now just breathing heavily. "But," she sobbed. "was the table leg that big? Couldn't the doctor have done something? I mean I watch stupid medical dramas and people survive from far worse than table legs, and granted I know that's not all true, I know doctors sometimes play magic and save people and why didn't they? Why didn't they save her? I double checked all the staff and the doctors were some of the best ones-"

"Stop." he stopped Garcia's rambling. "The table leg wasn't that big. Problem was it wasn't the only injury. My best guess is she had a couple of broken ribs, cheekbone, concussion, and..." he pondered whether he should tell her. He didn't want to tell her about the torture. Sure those injuries hadn't magically appeared on Emily's body, but the clover -just at the thought- he'd come this close to throw up.

He felt something on his waist, a nudge. He looked down at the tears streaked face staring up at him. "And the clover Doyle burnt on her breast."

She gasped. She cried for a good twenty minutes before she calmed down.

"He tortured her."

Morgan was about to answer when he realized it wasn't a question, she was just stating the truth.

So he just nodded. "Yeah. He did."

"What were her last words?"

He smiled softly. "Baby girl I just told you."

Garcia shook her head. "No, I meant literally what she said."

"Let me go."

What? "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry-"

He hugged her close. "No, she said that."

She just nodded into his chest and drifted off to sleep. She felt strangely calmer. She slept through the whole night.

* * *

><p><em>Took really a long time and still I'm not totally satisfied. I've got a couple more chapters ready to post so next updates should be more quick. Hope ya like it :))<em>


	6. Chapter 6

February 24, 2003

Clyde let himself drop into the overly comfortable chairs of the airport in front of their gate. Sean had given the new assignments and he and Emily had gotten stuck with undercover work, as a couple, because their boss had found out Tsia and Jeremy were involved. They had originally been the ones given the assignment mainly because of Jeremy's origins and because both agents worked well together. Too well maybe. As a punishment or as a way of making sure the operation would work, Sean had decided they would stay behind and Clyde and Emily would go.

Clyde was annoyed. He personally hated undercover work with a partner, it wasn't Emily the problem, au contraire, he was definitely happy it was her and not someone else, they seemed to work well together. Emily was furious. She was supposed to leave for Hawaii in a couple of days for her annual leave after ten straight months of work. "What's with the long face?" asked an amused Clyde as Emily plopped down in her seat.

She arched her eyebrow and as she saw his smile tried with all she had not to hit him. "If you shut up now, I won't maim you."

"Aw come on. You said you've never been to Germany, look at this as a way to explore the world further." he reasoned actually feeling bad that she was upset to be there, he was to but he was clearly better at not showing it. "Trust me, it won't be that bad. We're good, if not the best, we'll get the info the agency needs and then you'll be laying on a beach before you know it."

Emily huffed. She hadn't meant to be so annoyingly bothered by this, it was work after all and they had every right to call her in whenever she was needed. But that didn't absolutely mean she wouldn't kill both her colleagues for getting caught and ruining her time off. On the other hand she enjoyed spending time with Clyde, so looking at this on the bright side it wasn't so bad, she'd decided though she would act mad for a bit longer, knowing that her rugged British companion would try anything to make her feel better. "Just for your information, I've never been to Hawaii either. So part of your reasoning doesn't count. Also I've been to over twenty countries growing up so I don't know how much further I can _explore_." she spat.

He sat back into his seat and casually picked up his bag fishing out a pen and started to scribble something on the back of the abandoned newspaper he'd grabbed from an empty seat before sitting down. He knew Emily, knew her probably better than anyone else on the team, for the simple reason that they both knew more than three languages and usually got paired up together especially when they worked with Interpol. He was well aware she was pretending to be mad, sure she needed a vacation, but she was the first one in the office every day and the fact that she'd worked for over ten months straight spoke alone for itself, she was a career driven, workaholic and ambitious person and thinking that she was bothered to have to cancel plans was ridiculous for a profiler.

Clyde's activities caught Emily's attention after a while. She'd been staring at the monitor hanging from their gate with boarding time and departure time. They still had two hours to wait, they'd flown in from DC to London and were waiting now for their plane to Berlin. She narrowed her eyes trying to make out whatever he was writing.

In a moment she forgot all about her pretending-to-be-mad and leaned towards him. As he noticed he withdrew the paper and bent the side as to hide from her what he was doing. "What?" he looked briefly her way, acting as annoyed as he could.

Emily shrugged and sat straight in her chair again, making sure to make the leather squeak as she moved, just to bug him. "Uh... Nothing. Just stretching."

"Good." he remarked. "'Cause I would really hate it if I had to kill you because you peeked at my secret plan. Would be a shame." he said seriously. Clyde saw her frowning before a look of realization crossed her features. As the corners of her lips turned upward, he wiggled his eyebrows at her and folded the paper quickly tucking it in his bag.

She leaned again to smack him on the shoulder. "I hate you, you know?"

He chuckled and pulled her in the seat next to him. She'd made a point to seat one seat away from him just to support her act. He pulled her to his side and turned to her snaking an arm around her shoulders. "But I made you smile, didn't I?"

She laughed and looked up at him. She felt really at ease with him, partially it was that she didn't feel self-conscious or feel the need to hide her true self from him, and also the fact that they were clearly attracted to each other, physical attraction, that is, but there was never tension between them. The therapist who'd seen all of their team after the death of an agent they'd operated with once had concluded that they worked so well together because they weren't romantically involved and that if in the future they were to pursue it and then break up, they would lose the chemistry that made them work together so well.

"Can I see what you were writing?"

He glared at her, his eyes wide. "Of course not, it's a matter of national security, I cannot show it to anyone who asks."

"So I'm anyone?" she said with mocking hurt in her voice. "All right then, you'll be sleeping on the couch for at least a week."

He shrugged, but didn't relent. "I'm so not. And it's a sofa not a couch."

"Couch."

"Sofa."

"Elevator."

"Lift."

"Soccer."

"Football."

"Movie."

"Film."

"Principal."

"Headmaster."

"Truck."

Clyde held his hands up in a surrender pose. "Okay you win." she was so stubborn she would have gone on until she ran out of words.

She smirked and gently pinched his side. "I _always _win."

"Don't I know it." he sighed and grinned at her.

Five hours later they were sitting at the table of their new home. They're aliases were a couple, married, Stefan and Sheila Muller, he was german and she was american, given that Emily didn't know German. Stefan was an OB and Sheila a housewife. Their target worked in the same hospital as Clyde was going to work, obviously, and was suspected of stealing anesthetics, little doses at a time, and selling them to the black market.

Emily's task was far easier. They had been stationed in the same blocks where several other doctors and nurses lived, for the simple reason that the hospital was only twenty minutes away. She had to gather how much everyone knew about it and hopefully get into this traffic herself.

Despite the circumstances their place was rather nice, in a well kept residential area with a lot of parks and trees and their home was fairly old and filled with antiques and with a retro décor. It was a two story house, the kitchen, big enough to eat inside, too small for more than two people, the living room, the study and a bathroom on the first floor. Upstairs there was a huge bathroom, a big enough bedroom and an attic.

The bedroom was furnished with a king sized bed, an oversized walk in closet, with which Emily fell in love instantly, female instinct, Clyde affirmed; then a window seat on the left side of the bed, opposite to the closet, and in front of the bed a pull out couch, big enough to turn into a double bed. The walls were a pale yellow, almost beige, matching the sheets on the bed, which made a clear contrast with the dark wooded bed , door and beside tables.

"I believe it's my turn to sleep on the _couch_." said Clyde in mocking american accent, pointing at the dark brown comfy looking couch.

He sat on it heavily watching Emily who was still intently studying the closet, or actually, adoring, worshiping the closet. He'd never paid much attention to how his colleague acted the most masculine possible on the job, in his opinion to be respected by everyone and to blend in more easily; though sometimes she revealed to be that much more complicated than she appeared, showing bits and pieces of herself that not many people were probably aware of.

Emily walked up to him and sat next to him stretching as much as she could. "How're the turns going to work?" she stared at him. "'Cos I really don't want to switch every night or every week."

He narrowed his eyes and thought for a minute. "Are you suggesting I sleep on the sofa for the whole duration of our stay here?" he asked seriously shaking his head in disbelief.

She just shrugged her shoulders, "Would you?"

"Mmm," he paused. "I don't know. What would you do in exchange?"

Emily bit the corner of her lip pensively. She seized the moment. She looked at the both of them. They were sitting close to each other, her to Clyde's left, not touching though. She moved all her weight on her right hand and breathing purposely harder she leaned into him until her body was not only touching his, but also completely over him.

She looked at him in the eyes and saw utter confusion, but no fear, he was definitely into whatever she was doing. She brought her face up and, after briefly looking at his lips, tilted her head and got close enough that their noses were touching. Her eyes fluttered close and her face covered the space left between them until she was mere millimeters from him.

Then she pulled away and looked at him giggling. He was shocked, his jaw slowly reaching the hardwood floor of the room. "You!" he squealed.

"Me? What did you expect? I'm doing absolutely nothing in exchange for that." she snorted. "Aand I was going to suggest we can both sleep in the bed, there's plenty of room for the two of us and we're supposed to be a married couple after all, so we better not act as graders anymore."

"What?"

"Graders. You know that phase, you should, girls are yucky, girls are ugly, boys are better than girls. I can sleep in the same bed as you," carefully not worded as sleeping with you. "without any problem. Dare you?"

Clyde chuckled. "Trust me, I do not think girls are yucky, I love the girls." he said suggestively, letting his eyes wander down her body clearly enough so that she could notice. "Sleeping with you won't be an issue nor a novelty."

"Yeah right, if you're so sure..."

"Wait," he widened his eyes. "do you maybe kick, snore, drool, steal blankets or something equally as disturbing to someone you sleep close to?"

She laughed, hard, and regained her breath only after a few minutes. "Well I didn't really mean it like that, but now that you mention it I am known to be a blanket stealer, sleep talker and I drool all over the pillows and bed spread like an old bulldog."

He smiled and tickled her side. "You are going to be my end woman. Seriously though, you talk in your sleep?"

"In fact I do. But on the bright side I made up the thing about the bulldog drool right now." she swatted his hand away and sat straighter.

Her eyes had stopped on one of the boxes containing intel on their assignment. Her mind had registered, too late obviously, how they were toeing the appropriate-inappropriate line.

Emily smacked her thighs soundly, hurting herself, and stood. "I'm going to unpack." she announced leaving the room and a very puzzled Clyde behind.

After not longer than five minutes he directed downstairs. Her sudden reaction had worried him, he'd maybe done something wrong, said something wrong. They needed to work together and therefore needed to be clear with each other. Something had gone off in Emily's mind a few minutes earlier and he definitely had to know what and why.

He found her sorting her stuff to bring upstairs and the things destined to the study, living room and kitchen in two different piles. She seemed stiff and distracted, he'd noticed a bag, not bigger than his hand, which she kept moving from one place to the other.

He got closer, she'd obviously heard him coming down the squeaky stairs, but had not turned or given any sign acknowledging his presence. "Emily?" he tried tentatively.

At first she kept ignoring him, which had him even more worried. After a few seconds she stopped picking up books and clothes and turned to him. She looked at him in the eyes briefly, biting her lower lip. Her gaze fell then to the floor. Taking a very deep breath she shook her head and faced him. "I'm sorry."

Clyde frowned and tilted his head slightly. "Why are you sorry?"

She just shook her head again and walked past him with the mysterious bag clutched in one hand. "I didn't mean to take off like that, it's just... we're supposed to be here to work."

She relaxed visibly seeing Clyde's smile stretch across his face. She was scared she'd upset him, but it seemed more like the other way around. "You know well the reason Sean didn't send here Tsia and Jeremy. We can't fool around like this, we're not a couple or whatever, but we need to focus, or well, _I _need to focus so we can get the job done and I can go to Hawaii."

He nodded, his smile was still there, but his face was somewhat more serious than it'd been. "I think you're right. And I really want to get this over with too. We good?"

"Yep. Now, just so you know, I sleep on the left side of the bed, I'll be the first one to put away my clothes and you can have the space left and don't expect me to always do the laundry, cook, clean and make your bed."

He blinked a few times. "But love, you're a housewife, my housewife, you have to _at least_ polish my shoes before work and press my underwear."

Before he even had the time to move away from harm's way a copy of 'The lord of the rings' was flying his way with all the intent to hit him and hurt him.

* * *

><p><em>AN __I'm so enormously immensly sorry for the long long wait. Seriously, I know I said I had a few more chapters ready, and I did, but my computer crashed and took all my work with him to computer heaven so I had to copy my own work to have it and re-do everything. Baring any more losses I have a lot ready._

_Also this chapter was more of a filler, pretty long one, than anything, but it's info you'll need for the story. _

_Again I'm sorry, hope this is worth it. _


	7. Chapter 7

May 15, 2011

Emily sat on the steps of the canal not far away from her hotel. She'd done the same thing for almost two weeks since she'd found out Doyle had found her. She'd been scared at first, really, honestly scared, but after giving the situation some serious thinking, she'd decided to meet him.

She'd realized he'd let her know he knew she was alive and where she was because he wanted something. Declan, she thought. It was the only thing he could really want that depended on her. She obviously didn't know where he was, for safety reasons, to protect both her and the kid. If he wanted to kill her it wouldn't really change much for her, she was already dead to almost all the people she loved and, even though she'd promised to Clyde to stay away from Doyle, after all she caused she might as well put an end to all of it, eliminate Doyle and try to make it out alive.

Of course, that had been her plan last time too, but apparently it hadn't worked. Her alone against Doyle's army, definitely unfair game. This time it would be her and him.

But in her opinion he wasn't going to kill her. He'd almost killed her because he'd thought she'd sold his son and got him killed. He'd been bothered about the fact that she'd slept with him for over a year when all she had to do was get info. She'd seen it in his eyes, he loved her, Lauren, he still did. He wouldn't kill her not ever. Not now especially that he knew she'd saved his son's life and although he knew that meant the chances of him seeing the boy again were slim, he knew he was safe.

If he'd contacted her it meant he wanted something from her. Torture her, most likely.

She sat watching the sunset for the umpteenth time that month. She'd initially waited in a dark alley, dirty and awfully horrible. After a couple of nights he hadn't shown up she picked a better place. It was beautiful, the buildings reflected the sun, particularly orange at the time she arrived there. She usually watched the sun set, she was smart enough to know Doyle wouldn't come into the daylight and risk to be seen, but she'd nothing to do anyway. She waited every night until one, if he didn't show up, which he never did, she would go back to the hotel. She knew staying in a hotel might have looked suspicious, but after he'd found her she'd not bothered to find her own place.

As the sun hid behind the city she leaned back against a forgotten boat that was there covered in ivy and other plants. She wasn't bothered by the dirt staining her pants as she sat it was basically sand, but it was dusty. She was wearing a well worn pair of jeans, black converse, she'd never liked those shoes, but they were so comfy, and a sweatshirt. It wasn't a specific dress code, just her idea of casual look.

She took a casual glance at her watch and noticed it was past nine, the sun was setting later and later. She let her eyes fall close for a few seconds and jut feel the breeze. It was hot, but being halfway through may, not so hot. When she was younger she sometimes closed her eyes and imagined being somewhere else, or just try to relive some good memory. In that moment her brain was at Little Creek, with Morgan and Reid, when they all spent Thanksgiving with Rossi. They'd been happy, had a good time. It was one of the memories worth reliving. It was at least two years old, but recently nothing had been worth remembering.

After what she thought was not more than twenty minutes she heard footsteps not far from her. She opened her eyes, it wasn't by any means unusual, she'd picked a abandoned place to stay, but some fishermen still went there. She looked around carefully, she'd heard some twigs snap at her left so her gaze was pointed in that direction.

She held her breath for just a moment when she didn't hear or see anything she just leaned beck on the boat.

She went back to her peaceful environment until she felt something, someone, sit right next to her. Her heart nearly skipped a beat. "What the hell!" she screeched.

She felt a hand to her shoulder. She'd looked up, but it'd gotten to dark so all she could make out was a big figure, bigger than her, next to her. "Surprised?"

The thick Irish accent and the tone of voice made it creepy easy for Emily to know who was sitting next to her. "Ian." she deadpanned. "I wish I could be surprised."

"Too bad."

She took several deep breaths, she'd been preparing for weeks to meet him, and still she felt a bit agitated. Once she calmed down she made a move to sit a bit further away from him. "How did you know I was alive?"

He smiled, although she couldn't see him, she felt it somehow. "You did it once, so when I found out you were dead I first checked you were dead for real, which you aren't by the way."

"Well spotted." she bit out. "What do you want?" she paid careful attention to put no emotion at all in her words. No love, no hate. He would have loved it if she hated him, she truly didn't feel anything in his regard, besides an urge to hurt him she barely resisted.

He sighed and adjusted the leather jacket. "I wanted to see how you were doing."

"This trip to Italy was what I really needed, thanks for your concern." She snorted. "Come on! Really? You know how I feel."

He chuckled. That was exactly what Lauren would have told him. "I don't really, have never experienced it on my own skin. Usually prefer to watch people fall apart not destroy myself."

He was irritating her, she was seeing a very very dark shade of orange, soon turning into red. "No beating around the bush. Tell me what you want and get over with it."

He smiled smugly, enjoying seeing her squirm. "Is there someone expecting you?"

She felt her chest getting heavier every passing moment. She was angry, but her brain was still flying back form Virginia, he was provoking her. She knew it, she knew he was a sadist and even if he hadn't caused all of the situation in that moment he was almost there. "Just do it or I'm going back to the hotel to sleep. Do you want to hurt me? Fine. Do you want to kill me? Fine. You want to psychologically torture me? Just. Do. It." she said exasperatedly. She had felt tears form into her eyes and he'd probably seen it too as the streetlights made her watery eyes shine in the dark. "Please." her voice cracked.

He scooped closer, trying to ignore the fact that she was most likely crying, something none of them had planned. He went from loving this woman, to hating her guts, to feeling like he owed her for saving his son, which was the main reason that had kept him from finishing her. "Okay. I came because I thought we could work something out together. I need something form you. You can ask something back."

"How do I know you're not just playing with me?" she already did. She knew him enough to know he didn't play games to get what he wanted, he simply got it.

"You're a better profiler than that."

She nodded, he couldn't see, but he could feel it. "What do you want? Is it Declan?"

"No, you wouldn't tell me anyway." he reasoned. "I couldn't torture it out of you."

"You're damn right I won't." Nodding she tried again. "Lauren?"

He blew out a breath. "I want what you took from me."

Wow. She should have known. No direct answer, so he could twist it to his own will.

Emily shut her mind and tried to concentrate the quickest possible about the possible meanings of that request. Partially he was helping her, because there was just so mu she'd took from him, knowing he didn't mean Declan. His business, Liam, Lauren, seven years of his life and so on. "I think you need to be more clear than that."

"Lauren. The life I had with her. I want her back and you're the only way that's happening." he whispered.

Emily found herself nodding. "You do know that she was an alias, right? I don't have a multiple personality disorder."

"Yes. She was a part of you though, it shouldn't be hard."

"What would I have to do?"

He thought for a second. "You'd come to live with me. We'd be living exactly the same way as when you were undercover, just you won't be working." his finger caressed her cheek gently, which had her flinch and pull away from him immediately.

"Mmm" her heart was hammering in her chest. "And I can ask for anything, right?" as soon as he nodded so many things passed through her brain. So many things. She had to focus on the most efficient way to keep everyone safe until she got a chance to kill him. She had, needed, to kill him.

She didn't realize how much it took her to come up with something smart. It was in fact after over ten minutes that he nudged her slightly.

"I don't want you to hurt anyone. At all. No one for any reason. Ever."

"Until you keep your word?"

Seemed more like it. "Yeah. Think you can do it, eh?"

She could almost see his eyebrow twitch. It was odd to think he had a nervous tick and it had taken her all but two weeks to notice it back then. The first time she'd seen him, in the flesh, she'd felt relieved. The orders weren't to seduce him, not directly, they'd told her to do anything she could to get in his good graces. He wasn't that bad after all, in her mind, he was quite good looking, better than most men she'd dated anyway.

"You keep your word and I'll keep mine." he shrugged.

She nodded. "Can I think about it?"

There was silence, not an awkward one, one that scared the crap out of Emily. She hadn't thought before asking him, which probably would have been smarter. She'd just let her brain take over her and work on its own.

"In two days here. Same time. You'll give me your answer." As he finished he stood and left just as silently as he'd come, leaving her behind.

She started picking at her nails, not really caring how ugly they'd look afterwards. Since she'd left the hospital, she'd tried really hard not to do that, unsuccessfully, obviously. Her hands were shaking, literally and she was trembling.

She wanted to scold herself for almost crying while talking to him. She used to be the queen of compartmentalization. This _offer_, it was more a request to have her instead of kidnapping her. But, on the bright side, it meant she could keep an eye on him all the time, she was sure that after giving her his word he would keep it, but she couldn't be sure, as much as she knew him, she couldn't trust a terrorist, dealer, killer. She barely trusted anyone outside the team, it would be ironic if she trusted him.

In fact she knew what he had in mind was far from _just _having Lauren back, she knew him better than that. If all he wanted was to have Lauren back he could have kidnapped her and have her do what he said, the fact that he'd "asked" it, meant he needed her consent, he couldn't push her, couldn't trap her. Sure he knew he'd leverage because in case she didn't keep her word he would kill just about everyone she was trying to protect right now.

She honestly thought for just a moment, she deserved it. She didn't actually, but in her head now she did. When a few months before he'd hunt her down and almost killed her she was sure she didn't deserve it. Now it was a totally different story. She'd hurt her friends, made some of them carry an unbelievably heavy burden, the burden of the truth. It wasn't fair to them, they shouldn't have been caught in the middle of her gigantic screwed up life. She should have quit. If she had the chance to keep them safe, at least from Doyle, she was doing it, whatever it took her.

Standing and brushing the dirt from her pants she turned and walked back to her room. She was giving herself _willingly _to Ian Doyle. Just how stupid is that?

Two days later, deadline, she'd told him the deal was on, she would keep her word. She had to. He'd brought a minivan, modified one. He'd eliminated all the seats save for the driver's and passenger's, in the back there was a small kitchen, microwave over a tiny fridge right next to equally tiny sink, a very very small bathroom made of toilet and shower, and in the far end, were the trunk would have been, a bed just a tad smaller than a double bed. She'd packed all her stuff, as per his instructions, dumped her cell and documents. He put her bag, definitely not big, as all her possessions were a couple pair of jeans, sweatpants, a few tees and two sweatshirts, under the bed where his had already been laying for quite sometime. She got into the vehicle, destination Ireland, nothing too specific in case something happened.

She'd considered contacting her handler, JJ. Telling her she would be safe even though she wouldn't be able to check in as she'd done the past weeks. She'd thought about telling Clyde, so he wouldn't worry too much. She knew they were going to worry either way. She genuinely didn't know on what she'd based the decision to fall off the grid, it wasn't safe, not to mention someone was probably going to start looking for her. She just wished Doyle was good at covering his tracks more than he'd been in the past.

* * *

><p>AN _Starts to get interesting, finally. Hope it was any good, I probably have changed it a million times to fit the rest of the story, which is mostly planned, by the way. I might be having internet problems over the next few days, not to mention school starting on Monday, BUT next chapter should be up within a week._

_Huge thanks to romiross, MeGkAtHeRiNe and mlw217 who reviewed the last chapter. It's weird to think people really actually read what I write. Anyway, stay tuned peeps._


	8. Chapter 8

May 19, 2011

"What are you doing?"

Reid had came in early on a Monday morning and, to his surprise, had found Seaver packing up her stuff. He knew Hotch had told all of them there were budget cuts and the BAU was no exception, but he was quite certain nobody had any intention to leave, not after what'd happened. He frowned. He thought he'd heard everyone say they weren't interested at all in a change of career, he wasn't, Garcia wasn't and Morgan seemed definitely not as drawn to that leading position in New York as he'd been a couple years prior.

As the new addition of the team he'd not been friendly with the young, inexperienced blonde from the beginning, as her entrance in the team had felt like more a replacement to JJ than anything else. He was well aware they weren't the same person and sure JJ wasn't being replaced as the new agent was not going to be working public relations and well, technically, wasn't even an agent yet, but that didn't surely stop him from getting ahead of himself and taking his distance from her.

After Emily had... gone, he'd gotten closer to her, started to realize her potential and unconsciously he knew he'd let himself open up only when he was sure she'd become a permanent part of the team, he'd lost a friend, one of his best friend, he certainly wasn't ready to have another friend get taken away.

"I'm packing up my things." shrugged Seaver dropping another book into the carton box.

The frown that had not left his face deepened as he slowly shook his head. "But... why? I mean I thought they wouldn't kick any of us out, maybe Hotch can talk-"

She held up a hand to stop him from talking. "Wait. Reid I decided to get a transfer. The BAU is interesting and for someone with the lack of experience I have it's an honor to be a part of, but profiling it's not what I see myself doing for the next forty years." she saw the frown lighten, but it was clear he was still confused. "Look, being here was more I could have ever hoped for, you people are so nice and made me feel a part of your world, but I gave it some serious thought and this, as nice and welcoming as it is, isn't my place."

Reid nodded, feeling a bit dejected. "You're transferring to another unit here in Quantico?"

"As a matter of fact I am, but" she took a deep breath. "I'll only be staying for my training, then who knows." she smiled, hoping it would somehow make it all, a little, better.

"Where are you going?"

Seaver picked up the last few things form the desk and shoved them into the box before closing it. "It's a unit in the Counter-intelligence division. I'll be an undercover agent."

Reid's head was yelling, _What? _She'd been training for a long time now, but during her time in the BAU she'd had Emily as her mentor and she'd seen Emily, who had been and undercover agent, die. Now that's, all things considered, not something that motivating and considering that she knew all the details of her death made his head scream even louder. His lost friend had done some very good and brave things while working with the Agency, but also some things that were highly frowned upon, without which she would have never gotten a medal of bravery it.

"W-why?" he muttered. "I mean, I want to be supportive and all, but after all that's happened you want to do that?"

He saw his colleague, ex-colleague, look down smiling slightly before looking back up. "I knew you'd react this way. I seriously thought long and hard about this, I'm not going to lie, it cost me some sleepless nights, but I want to try. What I'm sure of is that profiling isn't something I can do for long, I need certainties and as much as some of it is proved, it is not enough for me. I have some serious control issues, I need to know what I'm doing I need to rely on my instincts, primal instincts."

He was nodding slowly, she was a girl of action he was a man of books. He couldn't get her reasoning, but he got the reversed version, his. He needed to have things written down and he found certainty in the books. "If you're sure, I'm happy for you, but you've seen what happened to Emily and-"

"Reid." she waited until she had his full attention. "It's also thanks to Emily that I'm doing this."

"I'm not following you."

Leaning against the desk she folded her arms on her chest and with the friendliest face she could manage she begun to explain. "When Emily died, you were all distraught and well, it'll make me look col hearted, but I understood what happened. It was like I was watching it from the outside. I realized she got killed because, basically, her teammate betrayed her, she was mistrustful, I noticed it, but she trusted all of you with her life." as she saw Reid shake his head she explained further. "She did, trust me. It was clear to anyone outside of your happy bubble of friends and family. She lied to you, not because she thought you weren't trustworthy, but simply because the Doyle case was-is protected by multi national secret agreement and none of you had clearance, then she would put you at risk and not just the team, given the chance Doyle would have killed all of us, our families, friends, everyone he could reach out to."

Reid's head hung on his chest and she didn't expect him to look up at her to continue, knowing that bringing up Emily and that particular moment hadn't been the brightest move. "Emily did some things against the protocol, she did what she thought would work best to get him, she did her job. In the end she did some of the most honorable things I ever heard of. She was brave, generous, selfless and caring. I didn't know her well and so, when a person comes across like she did after a couple of months, it is someone I'd like to have as my role model, despite how it ended, she was one amazing person and I won't miss the chance to continue what she was doing. If in a few years that'll become too much for me, I'll change again, do something different, come back to the BAU, if I can. But in the meantime I'll follow my gut and do this."

Silence fell between the two of them. It wasn't awkward, not too awkward, more like they were both speechless. Seaver had just finished saying all she had to and Reid on the other hand couldn't find the right words to voice his thoughts out loud. They stayed put for another five minutes until Reid moved his eyes up to meet hers.

"Thank you."

Seaver stared at him expectantly, waiting for and hint of what he could be possibly talking about, of all the reactions she'd imagined, she hadn't anticipated this one. "You've lost me."

He tilted his head to the left. "I know you're not doing any of this for her," it was well clear who _her_ was, "nor she would want it, probably, but being the one that knew Emily the least you're doing more than all of us put together to honor her memory."

Her eyebrows shot up and blinked a few times. "It's a privilege." then clumsily looked at her watch on her left wrist. "Look I'm supposed to meet my new boss in about three minutes, so if you don't mind..."

"Oh, sure. Go. Good luck." he watched as she walked towards the glass doors holding onto the box. "Ashley." he called as a second thought, he waited for her to turn and smiled. "Don't be a stranger. We'll be here, come up sometimes."

She nodded and hurried away from the bullpen.

He stood in a very film-like way for a few seconds staring off into space. His mind was going a million miles per hour, he had about a million thoughts crossing his mind.

It wasn't long until a very excited Morgan and Garcia found and questioned what he was doing. "Nothing, really, just thinking."

Morgan frowned. "You sure you're okay kid?"

Reid nodded and walked to his desk dropping in his chair, folding neatly the file over the keyboard.

"Hey Reid," Morgan shook his head. "Where's Seaver?"

"She quit the unit. She transferred to Counter-intelligence, she'll be an undercover agent, just like Emily." he smiled proudly and went back to his work, leaving both his friends looking the way he probably had when he'd first found out.

After ten minutes of explaining the reasoning behind that decision he looked at both of them. "What were you smiling about? I mean you two always look cheerful together, but..." he trailed off.

Garcia's eyes lit up immediately. "You don't know?" she asked sand eeing the genius' confusion she continued. "JJ's coming back to the team!"

Reid's eye widened, "Really? How can she.. I thought she was with the DOD?"

"I'm not sure how it happened, can't you just be happy without knowing every boring little detail?" she whined.

Hi smile grew from ear to ear. "Maybe this time."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Another filler chapter. I didn't like this, but I need to keep this going. Also I've been limiting the posts to one a week, on Wednesday, because I stayed a bit behind with the story to work on other projects and some school work. I'll keep posting chapters about a week apart until I've finished the whole thing, which might be awhile, I'm in no rush because of the premiere next week, simply because this story is completely different from whatever they've done, because it's completely utopic, like on so many levels. _

_I spellchecked everything several times, but I've been writing these chapters at 2-3am (that's when I have time), so I'm not holding myself responsable for any misspelled word. And last, but not least, I wanted to thank everyone that's still reading and reviewing the story and I've got a bunch of alerts, so thankyou, for real._

_And keep on reviewing please :) makes everything work faster._


	9. Chapter 9

May 20, 2011

Emily watched the raindrops move on her window. Whenever it rained during a car ride, when she was young, she pretended there was some sort of competition between the drops in the window. Some ate the others becoming bigger and faster, others were just slow and tiny. It helped her pass the time and, although most times she traveled by plane, the most boring rides where the ones in a car. It helped leave her current thoughts, concentrating so hard on the innocent drops.

That was aside the relaxing effect rain had on her. Usually at least, but given the circumstances she'd decided rain sucked. Firstly because it was halfway through may and it was rather cold. Sure she was passing the Alps to get to France so it wouldn't have been too hot anyways. Secondly because she was in a van, at the moment, with none other than Ian Doyle himself.

She'd tried incredibly very hard not to think about what he'd planned for her, what intentions he had. The more her mind wondered the more scared she'd become. Scared yes, because she couldn't fight back, no,w that she'd agreed to do what he wanted, if she somehow betrayed him the first to go was the team along with their families. She felt weak and stupid. She could've fought instead of giving him all the power to have the chance to plan the perfect murder. She wasn't going to cover up or go through the effort to make it look justifiable, all she wanted was Ian Doyle dead. More than anything in the world.

They'd been traveling together for about a day and he'd barely acknowledged her presence at all, baring at night when they'd slept side by side. Actually, he hadn't tied to touch her or made any move to get closer during the night, even unconsciously. That worried her and had her relieved at the same time. Emily was extremely glad he hadn't touched her, but, as he'd told her what he wanted from her was basically Lauren, she'd been worried about his coldness towards her. Sure he hated Emily, but he'd loved, hell, he loved Lauren.

Suddenly the drops turned out to be rather boring and lame, so she moved her attention to the bed, unmade, in the morning when she'd woken up, he was already driving, she'd realized it was useless to make it to use it in a day. That'd been her reasoning as a teen, even though her mother's housekeeping stuff was rather efficient, despite her neverending mess, growing up, especially after starting to work in the BAU, she'd always made a point of making sure the house was polished in the morning before leaving it. Partially due to her mother's influence reappearing over the years and also because after seeing so many crime scenes where victims left unmade beds and the full laundry baskets, it was clear they had no idea they'd never had a chance to make the bed or the laundry again, she'd always left everything perfect, in case she wouldn't come back.

Her gaze slowly, slug slowly, made it to Doyle. It stayed there just a few seconds, barely enough time to get a clear image of the man. She didn't want him to see her watch him. She started thinking a million things at once, trying to figure out problems that were actually harder than the ones in physics class. She found out, growing up, that there were problems that couldn't be solved by the right combination of equations, she'd realized it sucked. Not having the answer to all those questions, not being able to compare with her friends whether she'd gotten it right, just once. It'd hurt to realize that now she didn't even have the cobweb that her friends and family provided that saved her from falling into the unknown, where nobody had the answers and she couldn't find them on her own.

Ian Doyle had deprived her of her confidence, innocence, belief in what she did. He was now depriving her of herself. He was asking her to become her alter ego, the person she'd skillfully created to get what she had to, the alter ego that had destroyed her life for a good year, until she got a spot into the BAU. Anyway she'd never imagined to find a family there, she just wanted a new start. As soon as she got away from Doyle she cut all the loose ends and took time off until she got a new position somewhere else, as far away as possible from the CIA. FBI, State Department, anything, but not the Agency. She had to leave her colleagues, friends, notoriety, behind in order to get rid of Ian and leave him in her past. She used the time off to volunteer with orphans and kids with PTSD, doing what she'd wanted to do with Declan.

"Can hear the wheels spinning from over here." he said suddenly.

Emily jumped, literally jumped. She hadn't meant to, clearly as it would give her away. "It's nothing really." she stared at him for just a second, just one. He was not convinced and she didn't want him to doubt her more than he already did, she desperately needed to get in his good graces, just by talking and be of company. "Um," she thought of something really fast. "are we stopping to eat? We skipped breakfast and lunch, and I'm starting to get hungry."

He didn't react. At all. Probably in his head he was pondering his options. What she'd thought about in the last six hours, what she could think to do. "There should be something in the fridge."

Her eyes fell close carefully to make sure he wouldn't see her roll her eyes. Of course. She wasn't really hungry, well yes, but she could make it until late night when they stopped to sleep and eat. At that she realized how lame she must've sounded just a few minutes earlier.

"Right." she sighed. "Where do you want to get today. I could help you with the road maybe." she knew this place like the back of her hands. She'd practically spent more time there growing up than in any other place.

He snorted slightly, "Really?"

"I kind of grew up around here actually. So yeah really." the last part she delivered sharper than she'd thought, maybe too sharp. During the whole conversation none of them had made eye contact, something she had no intention of doing now, more so than moments ago. The last thing she needed was to snap at him and she would turn up like the Jane Doe number whatever in some small town in the north of Italy.

He shrugged. He could believe her or not, this time, to her dismay, all her knowledge and connections went in his favor. "Alright, what do you think we should do?"

"Depends on how far you plan to go."

He looked at her, obviously looking somewhere else. "I thought French border was enough." they had to cover the most distance possible every day to get to Ireland as soon as possible.

"It's going to be at least five more hours and it's already 6." she stated matter-of-factly.

"So? It's not like you have early wake up calls. I let you sleep in."

No shit. Seriously? She was going to fight against that little feeling that always had her snap whenever it was _needed_. "I just thought you should sleep more than five hours at night when during the day you drive for almost twenty hours straight."

"Worrying for me now?"

She snorted, louder than she'd intended, but right now all the barriers she build for her own interest tumbled down and rather soundly. "Worrying about me, more like, remember, I'm on here too."

"Trust me, I wouldn't let anything happen to you, not until I need you."

Before the meaning of the phrase itself hit her, the 'trust' part had her see red. Saw red everywhere like a freaking storm where instead of water it rained blood. Rather creepy, sure, but she had the windshield to protect her at least.

She'd been aware that he hadn't killed her just because he needed something from her. It was rather obvious, even though she'd saved Declan's life, she'd left him, made him look like a fool, broke his heart. The last she hadn't meant to, well, during the assignment it'd become clear that he'd fallen in love with her, but before, when she was training, she didn't know she would crush somebody's heart. She didn't like to hurt people that way, having been far too many times at the receiving end of those actions. She knew how much it hurt, she'd been already shot, stitched up, had surgery, broken bones, somehow heartbreak seemed to be way too painful and not treatable. Sure she'd become rather thankful of palliatives like alcohol and anti depressants.

She'd come to have feelings for the man. Lauren loved Ian, head over heels, Emily, after months, didn't feel revolted by Ian anymore. That, in her head, qualified as a feeling, a good one, if possible. That was the most intense feeling he deserved. Not hate, he couldn't have her hate, she'd learned in the past years that the worst thing to feel for someone is nothing, absolutely nothing at all. At least he had her not throw up on him anymore.

When she heard him utter those words she feared what she'd thought the night before was true, he _was _going to kill her, just not now. A few months prior he'd wanted to torture her and kill her. Now, however, he wanted God knows what from her, must be something only she specifically could give him. That meant good news and bad news, or in Reid's wording bad news and worse news. Now that was more like it. Bad news was he was going to make sure nothing happened to her, make sure she was still worth having around and providing him with whatever it was he wanted, meaning turning into an overprotective freak, not letting out her of his sight unless she was locked in the damn van.

Worse news was that whenever he achieved his goal and depended no more on her, she was almost completely certain, he'd get rid of her. Either letting her to her previous life, with big enough leverage that she'd never talk, or just kill her and proceed with total annihilation of the body and proof.

Noticing how he got her quiet so effectively, he'd realized she was much more talkative than Lauren. He had to get things out of her, instead with Emily he just had shut up for a minute too long and she'd speak up. He wasn't a sadist, not by nature, but he did enjoy seeing her squirm, so rather then telling her something a bit reassuring, he waited a couple of hours. "I didn't mean it that way."

She just looked at him wide eyed, much like a possum caught in the headlights. "What?"

"You know what. Relax you've just got ten nails, I'd like you to have them all when we get to Ireland."

She took a deep breath, and then another. "And how long do you think that'll take?"

"I have no idea." he stated emotionlessly. "we should stop for the night in less than an hour though."

She nodded. It hadn't been so horrific to sleep in the same bad with him, sure, he hadn't touched her, not even involuntarily, it'd not been comforting knowing he hadn't, but she'd felt at least a little less intimidated. She'd slept with him countless times, but firstly she was faking her whole existence back then and also she could rely on Lauren. Being good at compartmentalizing meant she not only separated well work and pleasure, but also she could _be _another person entirely without much effort. A skill like any other, came in pretty handy sometimes when she'd lied to her mother's face or lied her way through the BAU, but was scary and tiring and the more she actually let Lauren do the work, the deeper the separation between the two personalities got. Lauren got stronger.

"That right, or you want to go further?" he inquired with the same lack of emotion as their conversations of the past couple of days.

She did want to go further, further away. From him. But in her situation, as she'd realized it was maybe more convenient to stop the first chance they got. "No, just stop as soon as you can."

And that was because everytime they stopped there was a kind of ritual involved, something that assured him some unlucky hiker or whomever saw them, wouldn't recognized them. He would take a road away from the main, into the woods, mainly as they where in the Italian Alps, find somewhere hidden and park the van. It was really easier said than done, the hard part was always to find a hidden spot away from the main road.

It took him over an hour. He parked the old rusty vehicle under some trees with particularly high branches. It fit perfectly, actually, he was probably going to find scratch marks on the roof, but they were lucky enough if they eventually reached Ireland with that thing.

Ian had covered the windshield with an old blue blanket and went to get something to eat out of the fridge. "I'll take a shower later, then I'll go find some water." Meaning she wouldn't get to shower until said water was found. He had a tank underneath the 'bathroom' just barely big enough to wash up quickly. He sat on the bed and started to unbutton his shirt.

"Fine." _That is so not fine. _Why couldn't they fly to Ireland? She already hated the van and she was looking at a good week on the old thing. "I'll just go to sleep."

As she was heavily stepping towards the makeshift bed, taking the side towards the back, he grabbed her arm, gently. "Emily."

* * *

><p><em>AN I know it's a day late, but you can understand yesterday I didn't manage the little time necessary for the upload. So yep, I suck. And this is kind of cliffhanger-ish, just because the whole chapter would have been over 5k words, which is too long in my opinion, especially as I've stayed a bit behind with this story recently. So by next Wednesday you'll get the new one and though I'm still not sure about that it's very likely that after the next chapter I'll change the story's rating to M, beware._

_As always thankyousooomuch to all my reviewers :) if I actually had the time I would answer to each one individually as you're not too many, but I swear I'm skipping homework to post this. _

_PS. just how awesome was CM yesterday?_


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N Heeey I'm putting the note on top of the chapter, yep weird, because I need to pass a few thoughts and stuff._

_a)Here's the thing, next week I'm going to be so so so busy with school I don't know if I'll be able to post anything, also because there are three unwritten chapters between this one and the next ones already ready. BUT I've noticed as convenient for me to post on CM day is pretty lame. So here's what's going to happen, I cut the last part of this chapter that has kind of a cliffhanger and I'll post it on Sunday and hopefully after that I'll start posting on Sunday. Let me know what you think._

_b)If you haven't noticed, it's okay if you didn't, the story is structured around a main plot, the Emily/Doyle plot, which includes their story from Lauren to whenever it's going to end plus eventual flashbacks. Then there's the team subplot that goes parallel to the main one and finally the Clyde/Emily subplot. The last isn't actually a proper plot as if taken singularily, it wouldn't even be a story, so let's just say that as boring as it is for me to write it and for you to read it it's necessary because Clyde will reappear in the story as it goes on and therefore I felt like I needed to expand on their relationship or lack thereof, it's going to be a few chapters long, five, or something like that. _

_Also the story is already mostly all planned and the major happenings are already decided, but I'd love to hear your opinions, I've read a couple of reviews saying you think you know what's going to happen and I'd lo-ove to hear that, because I'm as curious as a monkey and because it helps me to have a different point of view on the story and see what people think of it. So pleease do tell._

_c) Last, but not least, I promise from now on I'll try and start respond to reviews personally not just putting a footnote on the bottom of the chapter. I love reviews. And just FYI, since I bored you with how the story is structured, I can tell you that after Sunday the chapters will be Team-Emily/Clyde-Team-Emily/Doyle, which means if the story's rating goes up will be after that, I'll give a reasonable warning a few chapters before and that's pretty much it. There's more boring and annoying stuff to tell, but I'll put it with Sunday's chapter. Please let me know what you think and what you think'll happen :)_

* * *

><p>It was the first time, since she'd died, that he said her name. Again a bittersweet feeling crept up Emily. Should she be scared or calmer than he made a connection, with her and not Lauren. When she turned towards him he was staring right back at her. Icy blue orbs burning holes in her deep brown ones. She'd felt taken aback by his actions, but when she took in his appearance she realized he looked... sad. She felt absolutely no compassion for the man, not even a little, rightfully. She didn't, couldn't, sympathized, she did have an idea how he felt though. That was his fault and his entirely, if anything she'd saved and preserved the only good thing he'd done in his life.<p>

She stared back for about a second, then dropped her gaze to her feet. She was standing, barely, he was too tall so he sat whenever they stopped as not to have stiff neck while driving from standing haunched. She could feel the heat from his grip on her arm. She didn't like it, despite it was probably th first human contact she had in months. She sighed and tried to pull her arm from him. Unsuccessfully.

"Emily." he repeated, tightening slightly the pressure on her arm.

Emily let her eyes fall shut and remembered what she used to do while undercover. She put a friendly face on him. As she convinced herself she had to do this, she held her head back up and stared back at him again. "Ian."

He gently pulled her arm down until she was forced to sit next to him. Her eyes were still shut and her whole body was tense and completely still beside him. They weren't touching, except for the arm, in her years of studying behavior she knew that it was either a good sign, he wasn't going to hurt her, or bad, but given how he'd acted the last few days she was leaning on the good explanation.

She was roughly pulled out of her thoughts as he cupped her cheek gently with his calloused hand. The warmth, skin to skin touch, that spread through her face sent a weird comforting feel to her brain. And that was upsetting her. Not that he'd touched her, but the reaction to that particular action had set her off. She didn't lean on his hand, she wasn't that crazy. His thumb caressed her skin gently before moving under her chin to lift her face up, so that he could look at her in the eyes.

Still she avoided eye contact. Her gaze was fixated on him, his pants, the sides of his opened shirt. Lauren would have looked up and faced the man, given him a piece of her mind, told him to do what he wanted or to get over it and get lost. Now, he said he wanted Lauren back, he did. But he'd clarified that he wanted what she'd taken away from him, and now he was with Emily. He was aware of it, definitely, if not for the shared body Lauren and Emily were different, not opposites, just very different.

After waiting she looked up, timidly. She tensed a little more, if possible, as a creepy, slimy, smile made its way on his face. She wasn't scared, it was the same smile he had on whenever he was with Lauren. His thumb was rubbing her chin and cheek, as far as it could reach. Emily's eyes drifted shut once more. His eyes were so penetrating and so full of emotions it was hard to stare at him for long, almost as if he would pass on the sadness and delusion he felt.

Dread crept up over her. She'd not realized what he was doing, again over analyzing everything had her distracted from her surrounding. Eventually the thumb moved, sliding over her soft lips, tracing a pattern, over and over. She tried to slow her breathing, and to open her eyes to look at him. She saw more than before, she saw confidence, desire, love, overshadowing the previous feelings. "Ian," she whispered so softly she was afraid he might have not heard her.

His thumb currently residing on her lower lip traveled up to the other lip and brought it back down, effectively shushing her. Her whole body was shaking. The look she'd seen in his eyes was the one he used for Lauren, for a woman he loved. That's when a teeny tiny lightbulb lit up in her brain. He was delusional. How did she miss this? An experienced profiler misses something _this _big? She closed her eyes once again as she felt him lean in so slowly it might have looked like a movie in slow motion. He edged in until she felt his breath against her cheek.

"Do you remember our first kiss?" he whispered distantly. How could she not? One of the single most terrifying moments in her entire life.

July 25, 2003

It'd been about month. They'd met and he'd taken a special interest in her, it bothered Liam endlessly, which was a bonus. It'd been like most of her relationships, you meet, start going out just as _friends _then you flirt, you laugh at his bad, really bad jokes, look at him longingly and testosterone does the rest.

Ian had asked her out on a couple of dates, a few she'd had to cancel because of business, which worried him she might be seeing someone else too, but really was only because she was freaking out. Everytime they went out she felt her stomach roll painfully and dangerously, cleaning up vomit isn't the ideal date for anyone. She'd been distant, cold, mistrustful, Lauren. She had to make sure she'd him wrapped around her finger before she considered making any sort of plan to accomplish her mission. She wasn't quite there, but definitely close enough.

"Beautiful as ever." he admitted after taking in her appearance. She was wearing an oversized Irish sweater, his gift, and jeans. It was their fifth date and he'd invited her to his place, she'd been there before, for their business, but this time it was different. Candles led the way to the kitchen where a small table was set up for two, right in front of the balcony, which had an incredibly nice view.

He'd kissed her cheek, as always, he'd never pushed further than that. She appreciated him for this.

"Wait in the living room, I'll call you when it's ready." he slid a hand down her arm and pointed her toward a hallway. Following his directions Emily found herself melting as she saw a little kid, not older than five tapping his finger on a small wooden coffee table. She rounded the couch that separated them and sat on one end, just looking at him.

She shifted and the couch squeaked, causing the boy to look at her. As he saw her a frightened look passed his eyes. He looked quickly around the room as to seek someone that clearly wasn't there. He got to his feet and after looking at her he looked down.

Emily got up from the couch and crouched down in front of the little boy. "I'm Lauren."

"I'm Declan." he said in a soft cute voice.

She reached out a hand and pulled him closer to her. "What were you doing?"

He looked guilty. "Music."

"Music?" she rationalized that probably the tapping on the table must have been his rendering of a song he knew. "Do you like music?"

He nodded vigorously and looked up at her with blue eyes that looked so familiar.

"How old are you Declan?"

He held up a hand with four fingers proudly. Emily, not even thinking about why a four year old was in Ian Doyle's apartment, pulled him up to sit with her on the couch. Brushing his bright blond hair to the side she rubbed his arm. "You know I used to play the piano when I was a bit older than you?"

"Really?" asked he sounding very excited.

Emily nodded. She had, for a year and a half, in Russia. She never liked it and never mind that she'd gotten pretty good at it, she'd never touched those black and white keys again. If she did now she'd realize she was probably back to zero. "Yeah." she answered matching his excitement.

"You're going to stay for dinner?"

"Why yes, I think so. You're staying too?" she inquired softly, enjoying the contact she was having with to most innocent human being she was going to meet in awhile.

He shook his head. "No, I already eated."

"Ate." corrected her.

After talking for a few more minutes Ian came in the room. As he saw her and Declan his look changed, from the happy she had seen before, at the door, he looked upset. "Declan." he started. "Have I not told you not to talk with guests?"

The boy nodded guiltily. "Ian I-" she tried to explain, she felt bad for the boy, she'd been the first one to talk. He'd been so excited to have someone to talk to he couldn't stop.

"No. There are rules. He has to follow the rules." He stated. Before calling Louise. When she arrived in the room he nodded at Declan. "Take your boy. It's probably past his bedtime already."

The bittersweet feeling still lingered in Emily until after their dinner when he moved their glasses of wine on the balcony, old style, with drywall fence. He put the glasses on the edge while he watched as Lauren took in the beauty of the view.

She leaned on the edge until her hip bones hurt, shifting away from him somewhat unconsciously. "It's beautiful." she breathed, just before a strong set of arms locked around her waist from behind. Her instincts went crazy, she was trapped against the balcony railing and him. Taking a deep breath, and another, she tried to calm her nerves and leaned into him slightly, just to test.

As he felt her get closer he tightened his grip on her and let his chin rest on her shoulder, brushing the hair behind her shoulder. "I know it is." he nodded as her arms come up to cover his. "I wouldn't have taken you up here if it wasn't this good."

Emily chuckled. He was a terrorist, a weapons dealer, but he was a man like all the other ones she'd ever met. She didn't even know why she was so surprised. "Do you take a lot of your clients up here?"

He grinned, she couldn't see it, but she felt his scratchy cheek move against her own cheek. "Not all my clients are this beautiful, besides, the view it's supposed to be more of a background, I've got the real thing right here." as he said it he squeezed her waist gently and turned her in his arms.

"I feel like I should point out that you're so not getting into my pants tonight." she said, not aware of how her sparkling eyes were affecting him.

His eyes widened and a large grin appeared on his face. "It wasn't my intention." he let his finger brush her cheek, enjoying the way her eyes were staring directly into his. "I'm the ultimate gentleman. I was thinking about something different for tonight."

Emily felt just about calm. She'd made sure she was _safe _for a little while yet. She'd been flirting with him and encouraging him, she couldn't afford to do that, not for her, not for the operation. She leaned into him, letting his body take in all of her weight. Emily planted her head on his shoulder and expected him to make the next move.

One of his hands started running up and down her spine, sending tingles everywhere in her body. The other hand went to her head and started massaging her soft hair. She felt so relaxed and so at ease she hated herself. For feeling like this, for how her body was reacting, if unconsciously, to his ministrations, for letting part of her self control slip every time she was with him. He made her feel guarded, calm, relaxed. Never mind that it was Ian himself that scared her, but, she thought, if she'd casually met him one day, he could have charmed her into going with him, and he might have made it.

When the hand in her hair traveled to her cheek, she tensed. On instinct maybe, but it didn't matter to Ian, who was still a bit mistrustful and insecure. "Something wrong?"

Emily bit the corner of her lip. Gathering then all her courage she tilted her head enough so she could see him in the eyes. "What are we doing Ian?"

Just above a whisper, sounded sincere enough that his face softened and a small unsettling smile appeared. He looked kind of scary when he smiled. He stared into the brown orbs before him. With his thumb he traced circles on her cheekbone, slowly, trying to reassure her. He didn't trust her, he didn't love her, not yet, anyway, but he felt something, a weird feeling inside him. His thumb made an excruciatingly slow path to her lips, to hover over them swiftly.

Emily's, Lauren's, eyes fluttered close. She shouldn't have felt that way, but Ian Doyle, wasn't only good at dealing. She'd known when she'd seen the never ending list of women he'd been with that he must be good, at this. She just didn't expect him to be _this_ good. Before her mind could wander further he leaned in and brushed her lips with his, initiating their very first kiss.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N Fully aware it's Sunday only in Australia, New Zealand, China, Japan, Thailand and a few more countries, which I don't sadly live in, but on the bright side it means I still got two days before school starts. _

_Ignore the ramnling, totally. I've got a high fever and finished this chapter while sick, I checked it for sparkling aliens and equally non coherent stuff, it should be clean. Then, I changed my mind on the next chapters, I'm not going to do the Emily/Clyde one (sorry _FashionableReid _I do agree it gives more depth to the story), not now at least, I don't really have to write another chapter of that, I realized, but I will. So there will be a Team chapter, the two planned will be just one, and then I'll get back to the E/D arc. Now, _greengirl82 _I'm not too fond of Clyde either, not really, but I'm curious of what I could do with the few info we got on him, to build some kind of background, very much needed for the end of the story, where Emily and Hotch will have a huge moment (differently from CM, as they don't even seem to know each other), so stay tuned. Again the story doesn't have pairings and won't, it's labelled Emily/Doyle, but I'm changing that back to just Emily._

_I know how the characters seem to have serious moodswings in this chapter, but I promise it was studied and done on purpose. Also very incredibly sorry about the philosophy thing, I can't help it I'm kind of a nerd._

_And I watched Due Date and I got an awesome idea. Just saying._

_Anyone else who just reviewed and not given me something more profund, I'll just give you a thankyousomuch, btu next time please add something, compliments are feeding my ego, but I would like to know what you think happened, will happened and I know I'm stressing with this, but please, I love those reviews. _

_Also if you read carefully you might notice, alongside the grammar errors and misspelled words, I left some hints. Have fun looking, I'll post again in a week tops. _

* * *

><p>May 20, 2011<p>

Emily tried not to smile at memory as she hadn't thought about it as a happy memory in a very long time. Not since after she was pulled out of the operation, and not because of Doyle. Despite the fact that she was undercover being the CIA slut of the moment, the time she'd spent with Ian, not gathering information, could be considered not bad, she hadn't gone around the following months boasting how she slept with a terrorist on top of every secret service agency in Europe and America. Absolutely not. He'd loved her though, that had to count for something.

She inhaled deeply before meeting his eyes. "How could I forget?" she said softly, hoping this was just a trip down memory lane.

His hand released her arm, which he'd been holding as a lifeline, and was now stroking the back of her hand. Passing his thumb delicately over her knuckles and tracing the pattern her sweatshirt had left on her hand when she clutched the sleeves in her hands for the last five hours.

"You really remember?" he asked oddly hesitant.

She frowned and shook her head almost imperceptibly, "You really believe all I did with you was getting enough about your business to get you out of the way? That I didn't care?"

He shrugged his shoulders, gripping her hand more tightly. "Wouldn't be surprised."

"I'm not the sociopath here." she said, realizing only too late what she'd said. Implied he didn't care, that he couldn't care, when he'd gone after her and _killed _her for being the cause of his son's death, she knew he wouldn't condone someone telling him he didn't care, no matter how true that really was. "You are."

She's broken eye contact a few minutes before, so she missed the flash of rage in his eyes.

He hastily grabbed her from the neck and forced her towards him, "Is it? Then you won't find this out of character." he whispered forcefully just before he kissed her.

His hand was holing her neck so hard she couldn't even move, she'd felt taken aback by his actions. She wasn't surprised, he was definitely capable of something like this, and probably worse.

When she didn't respond or kissed him back, he tried to pry her lips apart, with no result. He was pushing and biting her, while she was pressing her hands to his chest trying to shove him away, but wasn't strong enough. She'd felt the tears form in her eyes, she was scared and vulnerable. She hated feeling like this, he had all the power physically and was blackmailing her so she couldn't really rebel, which didn't mean she was going to give him what he wanted.

It was only when he bit her so hard he drew blood that she opened her mouth reflexively and, not noticing, not realizing it wasn't intentional on her part, he let her go, thinking she'd finally given in.

As soon as he let her she scrambled on the bed away from him until her back hit the trunk door.

Her hands went to her bleeding lip, wiping away the blood from her chin and the few drops smudged on her cheeks. Breathing heavily, she tried to regain sense and rubbed her bloody hand on her jeans, not really caring at moment about the blood stain she wouldn't be able to wash away later. She wasn't scared, just terrified. She didn't dare look up to him.

A small part of her thought briefly she deserved that for accusing him of being a sociopath, the bigger part of her told her that he was, in fact, a sociopath and the accusation was no reason for hurting her.

Lauren versus Emily.

The Jekyll, Hyde debate stopped as fast and unnoticeably as it'd started when Ian Doyle captured her right wrist in his hand and yanked her back towards him.

"Ian."

He stopped and looked at her. His eyes reflected such anger she'd probably never seen. He was furious and out of control, which scared her out of her mind.

"Ian please." she begged him.

He was still breathing heavily. Her blood on his lips made him look scarier that he actually was. Almost like a cannibal. Suddenly he handed her a tissue to clean away the blood that was still flowing freely.

He glared at her. Right in her eyes. "Never, and I mean it, never accuse me of something like that again, understand?"

Emily felt the urge to cry. For a good reason, still not good enough for her though. "I'm sorry, okay?"

His breathing evened out. The look in his eyes grew less intimidating and the grip on her less painful. She was looking straight up at him, watery, terrified eyes trying to escape his icy unforgiving ones. He felt something, something he'd felt before, some strange feeling he like... remorse. He knew he wasn't a sociopath, he did feel remorse, he showed empathy, he just had some violent outbursts. He felt bad seeing what he'd done to her, sad, guilty. It happened only with Declan, he used to be the only one to make him feel like this.

She started to clean her face wherever she felt the blood, clearly not having a mirror she couldn't do it perfectly, so she was just gently rubbing the marks she felt in the inside of her lower lip to prevent fresh blood to stain her face. Sometimes she would look at the tissue to bent it, to find a side clean from the blood. As soon as she'd apologized he'd let her wrist and she moved towards the nearest wall and sat against it wiping her face. She looked like a lost kitten licking its wounds.

Doyle sat right where he was, he hadn't moved an inch, staring at her. He'd never seen her so vulnerable. Not even when he'd stabbed her, she'd kept herself together and hadn't shown a sign of weakness. Now for something he classified as nothing much, she was on the verge of crying.

Seeing as she hadn't reached to some spots on her cheeks and nose he realized she couldn't see herself and therefore get her face clean properly.

She jumped when he made a move towards her. Her eyes wide and her knees bent against her chest in a defensive pose. He looked different, she knew he'd watched the entire time, but she hadn't had the courage to look back at him. His eyes were softer and apologetic when he moved.

"Scoot over." he instructed nodding at the corner of the bed. She obliged without uttering a word.

She laid on the bed, it was her side after all, and turned her back to him, while continuing wiping her face from blood and tears.

She tensed furiously when she felt his hand on her shoulder, pushing her onto her back. She looked up at him.

His hand went to cover the hand holding the tissue and took it away. His other hand went up to her cheek to rub it gently. With the other he finished cleaning her face, getting to all the spots she missed and cleaning his face too. As soon as he was done he threw it away and laid on his side next to her.

With his head propped up on his elbow he took in her appearance, she was shaking slightly and despite the fact that she'd wiped away the tears he could tell she'd been crying. When he brought up a hand to her cheek her eyes fell close, her lower lip trembled almost unperceptively. He'd done this to her. Scared her when all he should do was get her to trust him. He wasn't delusional, he knew Emily Prentiss would never trust him, but he had to get on her good side, desperately, he couldn't repeat his actions.

"I'm so sorry Emily. I don't know what happened, please forgive me." he whispered.

She slowly moved away from him as far as she could. She could tell him it didn't matter, that she knew he was tired and it was a one time thing, but she would be lying to herself, to him and to everything she stood for. "I can't." her voice cracked. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I can't forgive you. And I need you to realize that if you want me unharmed and okay for what ever plan you have you can't do this. You can't use me like you use everyone. I won't allow that to happen. So, just try to control yourself and realize you're not in control."

He frowned and shrugged his shoulders. "From where I stand I'm the boss here, love."

Emily's stomach turned at the last word. "No you are not." she opened her eyes to reveal a strength that hadn't been there just a few minutes ago. "Because you obviously _need _me, and you're blackmailing me, but I believe, since you could have just everyone you want and you're not a sadist, that you need specifically me. So if I try to somehow to kill myself, you would lose everything."

"I'd still have your whole team, right? Besides if that's your intention, I will have to take precautions."

She snorted slightly. "If I was dead, then I wouldn't even realize my team is dead. See I don't believe in afterlife, at least not like you do. I stand more along the lines of an ancient Greek philosopher, Epicurus."

Doyle's eyebrows shot up towards his almost deserted hairline. "Guess he'd pretty famous? 's he the happy one?"

Emily stopped herself from chuckling, he even tried to look stupid, as if it'd justify his actions somehow. "Yes, he's the one whose life goal is happiness and freedom. Intresting thing he said about death is that it's something humans don't experience, we're either alive or dead, no one can't tell you about death. It's like when you die, nothing matters anymore, you're just... dead. I'm really not planning to kill myself. Should I remind you in our deal you're not supposed to hurt anyone?" she looked for some sign of assertion on his part, "well, Ian, you hurt me. Our deal should be off."

"So why're you still here?" he challenged her. While he'd moved closer to her on the bed.

Emily looked down, at their knees, only to realize he was getting closer and closer, and after what'd happened in the last hour she really didn't want him to get any more near her. "You know what? I don't even know myself. Maybe because if I left you would go straight and hurt all the people I know, letting me live with the guilt of knowing they got hurt because of me, and this is one reason. Secondly, I've always believed you were a good person, misguided, but well meaning. After all you were IRA, you fought for the freedom of your country from the crown, I think that's noble. What I don't get about you is how you got from being a patriot to being a terrorist and an arms dealer."

She'd noticed how the smug look on his face had disappeared, he looked like she'd just demolished some of the barriers he'd put up over the years that no one had ever tried to break, no one he'd known had ever tried to get to understand him on a deeper level. "I-"

She held up a finger. "Don't think I was finished. One other thing I'd love to know is how you can love your son so much and when he does something wrong you hurt him. You clearly have anger issues, you just proved that to me a few minutes ago when you _bit _me, like an animal." she was overstepping the proverbial line and she just hoped he listened to her instead of snapping. "I spent some really great moments with you, I didn't lie when I told Declan I loved him, I did lie when I told you I loved you. I _can't _love you, I could never, but I cared about you. A lot." the last part came as a strangled whisper. She wasn't sure he'd heard that and sure as hell wasn't going to repeat any of it.

"So why did you leave, why did you lie?" he asked. It took her a moment that very tome of voice was the one he used to talk to Lauren, late at night when they spent hours in bed just cuddling.

Emily shrugged. "It was my job. It was what had to do. The proof that I actually cared is, for instance, how I protected Declan, breaking possibly a handful of laws, trusting I was really the only one who knew about him." she breathed heavily. "Now," she licked her lips. "I'm tired, I can imagine you're tired, we didn't even get to France. So I'm going to sleep hoping you'll think about what you did and what I just told you. I have absolutely no intentions to kill myself or leave you," _liar, liar, pants on fire_ her mind screamed, she hated how hypocritical she sounded. "so just focus on getting us to Ireland in one piece and in the shortest time possible and let me know what you need. Goodnight."

She turned and got so close to the trunk that her hands and arms in front of her were pressed against the metal door. Doyle looked at her helplessly as she moved away. She'd messed with his mind all over again, she was the only person in the world able to do that without him realizing him at the moment. She had dusted off some of his oldest dilemmas, some of the questions he hadn't even asked himself in a very long time. "Emily," he called her softly.

When she'd told him he'd bit her like an animal he felt disgusted with himself. He'd had no problem impaling her with a broken table leg, but somehow he felt guilty now. He was scared of how she could make him feel something completely different than usual.

When she didn't respond he knew she was pretending to sleep. He sat up about halfway and tried to see if he could see her reflected face on the door, but the moonlight didn't get to the back of the van, so he couldn't see her, he did see blood stains on the creamy white sheets. He squeezed his eyes shut. He really needed to change if he wanted a chance with her.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N I know I shouldn't be updating this fast, as I'm supposed to be super busy. Supposed to because I got tonsillitis Sunday and the doctor told me not to go to school until Friday. I was over the moon. But I'm also taking antibiotics so if anything seems really weird or bad written that's probably why._

_As for the Clyde issue, there will be some chapters with him and Emily, back before Doyle, because he will appear later in the story and I feel like I should give him some more background, to both give more depth to the character and because I need to expand on some things that happened in the past that will come back. _

_Then I know I said that the story is mostly planned and bla, bla, bla. But if you'd like to see something in particular, an interaction between the characters or anything, not pairings, there won't be any at all. Tell me. I will decide if that interferes with the already decided plot, if not I'll do it._

_Thanks as always for the reviews and next time I post, which I have no idea when that'll be, I hope not to be on meds anymore and be more lucid. Happy CM night (:_

* * *

><p>May 25, 2011<p>

JJ was clutching her phone in her hand, she was holding it so tight she was sure her fingers were leaving marks. She'd just gotten some news and needed to pass those to Hotch asap. As soon as speed of light possible and didn't need Reid to comment how light movement is barely perceptible and how no human can move at speed of light.

Her heart was beating unbelievably fast, she felt it pulsating in her ears. She'd come out of the elevator on the sixth floor with all the intention to rush to Hotch's office, but she'd been moving so fast she felt a bit disoriented as she stepped in front of he glass doors. The same feeling she sometimes got while playing soccer, as long as everything was moving fast she was in the game, when a little distraction got her she was suddenly confused.

Taking a deep breath she stepped through the glass doors rushing to the steps. Her luck however was not on her side this moment, as Reid stepped in front of her. "Hey." he greeted, oblivious of her darting eyes and accelerated breathing.

"Hey, everything okay?" she asked distractedly.

He looked down, obviously he would have liked to have this conversation somewhere more private. "I just... I was wondering if maybe I could drop by your place on my way home."

Noticing his small voice she knew. Ever since Emily died he'd randomly showed up on her door step crying and asking her about Emily. At first she'd feared her and Hotch had been obvious at the hospital and had compromised Emily's safety, but then realized, through his questions that he was just still mourning his friend and was in denial. "Sure Spence, same time." she said briefly, not totally focused.

"Thanks, I don't know what I'd do without you." he whispered staring at the floor.

JJ smiled, while her maternal instinct kicked down her agent instincts. It happened often with him and she just hoped she would be able to keep them separate enough as not to reveal something she shouldn't. "I'm sure that's not true," she squeezed his shoulder lightly. "you're far stronger than you think. Seriously."

He nodded, and JJ almost sighed and continued her way up to Hotch's office, she didn't want to leave him there, she didn't want to ignore him, quite the opposite, but in her mind Agent Jareau decided she could cuddle and comfort him after passing Hotch the news.

Then, when she'd almost turned to walk away, he stopped her. "JJ."

She again turned to find him focused on the linoleum floor. His face one she'd seen more frequently she would have wanted over the past weeks. "Oh, Spence."

He swallowed a sob and looked up at her. "Do you really think she's okay?"

"We talked about this. Emily wouldn't want you to mope around like this. You know her, she'd want you to do something great with your life, not wait for her."

He finally looked up. "Yeah, I know, everybody keeps telling me this, I just wish... wait. Did you say wait for her?"

JJ stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights. Whoops. Did she really say that? Damn, now it was all about trying to get him away from realizing what she said was meant in a very literal sense. "I did."

He frowned and shook his head, slowly, even thought his brain was going a million miles per hour. "But, wait for her? She can't come back, she's gone, forever."

"I know she is Spence." she tried not to say anything, but go with what he said.

"Or maybe she can come back? Like an hero. I mean all those people that nowadays are declared dead, but actually are alive somewhere hiding from everyone they know?" he looked hopeful and confused.

JJ shook her head, determined on lying to him all over again. "You know that isn't really true."

"In fact, it is." he said his mind accelerating every second more. "Maybe you know it, if you knew you'd tell me right?"

Before even thinking JJ wrapped up Reid in a bear hug and held him tight. She figured this was as close to tell him as she could get without actually doing it. "It's okay, she's okay you're okay."

He disentangled himself from her. "No. Like in Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice, when Portia talks to Bassanio and tried to tip him off, to chose the right basket and she let's slip that she actually loves him." he sounded so excited, if she didn't know him she probably would have thought he was bipolar. "A slip of the tongue, it's what just happened to you."

She wanted to cry as she took in his expectant look.

"No, it wasn't a slip of the tongue, at least not in the way I might have meant that Emily was really here, it was more along the lines of going to visit her, you know, at the cemetery."

He nodded, not even partially convinced by her explanation. "I don't believe in that. I just can't."

She knew he hadn't been to her grave since the funeral, unlike many member of the team. "Then maybe you can come with me next time, you don't have to do anything, just sit there and support me."

She had visited Emily's grave, not for herself, but she'd went with Garcia a couple of times. She'd thought about taking Henry, as the little boy had been asking about her repeatedly in the last weeks. She almost brought him when she realized that if with all the luck in the world they would be able to get Emily back in the space of about a year, then he would get too confused.

As he was about to open his mouth again she stopped him. "Look, I really need to talk to Hotch about something very important. We can get lunch later, okay?"

"Yeah, sure." he offered a small smile.

She took off. She wasn't bothered by Reid trying to find reassurance in them, nor trying to talk to them and she was absolutely honored to be the one he'd chosen, but had he known the matter at hand, he would have let her go straight away. JJ ran up the steps to Hotch's office and almost didn't knock when she opened the door, she did knock, she just didn't wait for an answer.

"JJ" Hotch stood seeing how his colleague was shutting blinds and door. "What's going on?"

She knew their offices were sound proofed, but she still wasn't about to take any chances.

"Emily's off the grid." she whispered, not trying to hide her darting eyes and accelerated breathing. "she just, disappeared."

Hotch stared at her for a moment. "What?" he matched her barely audible voice. "Wasn't she under strict surveillance?"

JJ shrugged. "She checked in every couple of days, usually everyday, but sometimes she did it every two day, tops." she hadn't realized her voice was shaking until the end of the sentence. "They found the disposable cell she was using, in Venice, about three days ago, but I haven't heard from her since last week."

Hotch dropped in his chair. Rubbed a hand over his face repeatedly, clenching the other hand so hard his knuckles were almost blue. "Why are you telling me this just now? And what's being done about it?"

She carefully sat in one of the chairs in front of his. "When I noticed she hadn't checked in I contacted the head of the operation and told him. He decided to wait a few days, but to track her phone."

"She didn't mention anything out of the ordinary to you?" he sighed.

JJ just shook her head. "She sounded normal, or at least, the same she'd sounded since she went into hiding. If I'd thought something was wrong I'd have told you, I swear. She sounded almost relieved. She'd been weird sometime ago, but I just thought it was due to the place change."

Hotch's eyebrows shot up. "Weird?"

"I don't know. She was agitated and told me she wanted to change place, but she'd just been there a few days, she said it wasn't anything bad, just felt uncomfortable."

"Well that wasn't enough?" Hotch replied firmly. "Emily Prentiss didn't complain when she got fifteen stitched to her forehead, or when Cyrus beat her up, you should have known something was wrong. She isn't just uncomfortable."

JJ took a deep breath and blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the tears. He was worried she got it, but he was taking it out on her. "I couldn't have known, Hotch. I begged her to tell me what was it, she just wouldn't."

He nodded. "I know, I'm sorry. I know this isn't your fault."

An awkward and too long silence fell between the two. They both wanted to fault someone, obviously, themselves, but eventually ended up realizing that it was no one's fault. "I don't know what to do Hotch. She might be dead, for real." she chocked.

He remained impassible. "We always assume the contrary until we have proof. So until we find the body we assume she's alive. Now what's the plan?"

"I thought we could call Clyde Easter and start our own investigation."

How narrowed his eyes and frowned. "Excuse me?" the English agent and him hadn't started with thr right foot and hadn't had a chance to remedy before he took off.

"I'm thinking he might have some more insight than we do."

"If I'm not wrong we had to tell him Doyle had a son and we were the ones who worked most of the case, without his help."

JJ bit the inside of her cheek. "I meant on Emily. He might have some insight on Emily."

"Oh." right. It bothered him sometimes to know that there was someone else who knew her well outside of the team and knew a side of her completely unknown to him or JJ or the others. "You know how to find him?"

JJ nodded briefly. "I think so, but we won't be able to meet. Keep contact via phone and try to leave no trace. He'd still hiding form Doyle."

Hotch found himself nodding once again. "What about Doyle?"

"What about him?"

"Do we need to track him and more important, is there any chance he might know she's alive?"

JJ shrugged. "The agency's already tracking him and frankly I don't think he knows, we covered her tracks pretty well, I doubt he even thought she might be alive."


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N ohmygod _ohmygod _ohmygod _ohmygod _ohmygod. One of my stories got nominated in two different categories. And I've published just one so thankyou people who did it and while you're at it, keep voting it (pwetty please). I was so excited when I saw it, like I know virtually nothing about this thing and I was so awestruck that my story actually got nominated. I'm aware there are stories out there which are just brilliant and I'm most likely not going to win, but it doesn't matter to me._____

_____This chapter was supposed to be posted tomorrow, it actually if half of the chapter of tomorrow as I hadn't finished it, but decided to post a bit of it as a huge thank you to everyone who keeps reviewing and alerting this story, it's really short, and next one will be a bit longer. Next is M rated. I'm debating changing the whole story rating or just write it on top of the page. This also might seem a bit off, just remember it's the first of two parts. :)_____

* * *

><p>May 27, 2011<p>

Emily opened her eyes and pressed a hand to her forehead. She didn't need to wake up to know Doyle had been driving since six in the morning. In the last few days he'd been distant, but at the same time more caring towards her, why, she hadn't had the chance to figure it out. The little dialog she'd managed in the previous week was gone, but his manners were not the emotionless, distant ones from before, he was acting more like he had towards Lauren Reynolds eight years before.

They had been moving non stop, getting close to the northern coast of France. It was a matter of days now, he'd promised they would arrive in less than a week now. It wasn't particularly comforting, but it was something. She'd reasoned by then they could have reached Ireland already if not for his choice of route, they'd snaked their way through France and so it'd taken a lot longer than usual.

She opened her eyes again only to see the back of the van spin furiously. She'd been waking up dizzy for almost a week and today was no exception. Slowly she sat up, carefully keeping a hand over her eyes hoping it would help a little. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood, gripping the fridge do stand up. Certainly the moving vehicle wasn't helping matters as after a turn she almost fell in the shower.

Somehow she managed to reach the front seats and dropped in hers, not even bothering to buckle her seatbelt. To move her head, even an inch, resulted in it spinning so hard she could barely keep her eyes open. Not to mention what it was doing to her stomach. She hadn't been able to keep anything down the last few days and had no idea why.

"How're you feeling?" he asked without taking his eyes from the road. At first he'd been worried when she started feeling bad, then after days he started getting annoyed.

She didn't move, didn't open her eyes to look at him. "Better than yesterday, worse than tomorrow."

That's what she'd been telling herself. When she first woke up sick, the night after he 'attacked' her, she'd thought it was stress, but after almost a week she'd begun to think maybe she'd just caught a bug, where she didn't know, she'd been closed in the damn van with just Ian.

After all but twenty minutes she started feeling her stomach roll dangerously, while her head was better, staying in the same position, not laying down, helped. On the other hand she was feeling nauseous. Nothing new she'd been feeling exactly like this for the last few days. He'd picked up on it pretty quickly seemingly interest in her well being more than he'd ever cared to.

Placing a hand on her stomach, to keep it warmer, she felt a bit relieved, but still sick. The day before she'd been able to get better just relaxing, taking deep breaths and focusing on the road, but today the dizziness was worse so she couldn't keep her eyes open.

Doyle kept glancing at her. She couldn't see him, she could just feel it, his gaze on her, a lot like she just felt his eyes watching her sleep. Funnily he was anxious about her being sick, but whenever she wasn't he seemed not even to realize she was there with him. Just like everytime this conflicted thought made their way through her head she pushed them away just as fast, both not wanting to explore and analyze every detail of his every move and not wanting to know what he'd actually planned for her.

Regardless of the wheels spinning in her head her stomach twisted painfully. It was completely not like her, or rather her immune system, to get stomach bugs or bugs in general. Also it worried her that coupled with being sick came loss of appetite, she'd eaten a sandwich in three days, and abdominal pain.

She bit the inside of her cheeks hard and kept her eyes squeezed shut not even noticing the van had come to a stop. In fact she practically jumped when Doyle opened her door a few seconds later.

He delicately put a hand on her arm and rubbed it slowly. "Do you want to get some air?" he asked feeling uncomfortable and inadequate in this particular situation.

Emily opened her eyes to stare at his unblinking ones. Her nod, barely perceptible was followed by her throwing herself out of the car and bending over the guard rail throwing up what had to be gastric fluids, as no food had found its way down her digestive track in days.

Same, similar, scene had replayed over the past week at least once a day. Emily had first felt ashamed of it, she couldn't help it, especially thinking he was the cause, but when it represented itself again and again, she started growing worried about her condition, not only because of the possibility of a medical problem, she probably wouldn't have the chance to consult a doctor about, but also because of what Doyle would do to her in case she proved to be unuseful for whatever plan his mind had worked.

As every time it'd happened Doyle stepped close to her, not too close, just enough to let her know he was there and put a hand on her back, the other on her hip to steady her, and rubbed circles.

When she finished, or thought she had, she turned to him. If the circles under her eyes or the tears forming or the pale sunken cheeks weren't of any indication, then the broken look she gave him when she caught his eyes screamed sleep deprivation and illness.

He'd seen that look before, two times and neither one of those had it been Emily. It looked close enough because the eyes he remembered were Lauren's, one time she'd gotten the flu and when they pulled her out, before being pushed into one of those black cars.

He did the only thing he could think of and pulled her towards him so that her head rested against his chest. Her mind was screaming, yelling not to fall into Doyle's cobweb again. It was comfortable though, a part of her which she hadn't had a chance to see for a long time came out, pushing down all of the barriers she'd skillfully put up and shoved her into her captor's arms.

She fell against him as a dead weight and let herself be sustained by only his body. In the meantime he'd shrugged off his leather jacket and wrapped it around her. "How're you doing?"

She didn't reply, just shrugged against him, not trusting her mouth at the moment. Not trusting Lauren to do anything beside act comfortable around him.

"I was thinking I may be able to get in contact with a friend of mine in Hastings." he said while keeping her close to him, aware it would probably be best to get her inside to keep her warm, but at the same time he rationalized getting fresh air could help at the moment. "he's a doctor." he added as an after thought.

Emily sighed. This was going better than she'd thought, basically it meant if she got sick he'd try to cure her instead of get rid of her. It wasn't by any means reassuring, just a little maybe. "Okay."

He guided her back into the van and sat her on the bed. "I thought maybe we could stop for today and get back on the road tomorrow."

She just nodded. "Anyway in about three days we should be _home._"


	14. Chapter 14

_Sorry again for making you wait so long, but this time I can't promise anything. To make up for the lack of updates this is a long one. I don't want to bore you with my personal issues, but I'm not suffering of writers block or anything, I just am very busy and I got sick again resulting in a trip to the hospital. To understand better just know this chapter has been in the doc manager since Sunday and I just forgot to post it._

_Doyle's thoughts and actions may feel confused and random and, believe me, it's done on purpose. While Emily has Lauren and those two are definitely different personalities, Doyle finds himself conflicted within the same personality. It's more of a brain vs heart struggle than a split personality. For instance, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde are two different contrasting personalities, imagine that kind of contrast in just one personality. Emily's struggle with Lauren will be picked up later on._

_Once again I wrote while I had a fever so some parts might seem weird, especially the last scene. This was supposed to be M rated, but I just decided to tone it down so everybody can read it and it's probably why the last part doesn't seem to match the rest for some reason, or that's my impression, anyway._

_Huge thank you to everyone who's sticking with me, and please just know this overwhelming time is going to end soon enough. Enjoy and review :) _

* * *

><p>He'd found a parking spot, hidden in the woods and covered by the trees, just as he liked it. It had taken him just about twenty minutes. It usually took longer to find the perfect spot and it wasn't perfect, this one, but Emily wasn't feeling well and didn't want to move her too much.<p>

To say his feelings towards her at the moment were conflicted was a huge understatement. When he kissed her that night he'd gone a little too far, he knew it, although he'd always been with Lauren back then, he knew she was basically Emily, maybe a bit more reckless, but still her, seeing her cry in front of him and get away from him pouring fear out of her pores had shook him loose.

The rational part in his mind kept reminding him he had taken her and was keeping her for a reason, a very specific reason, something that no other woman could do. It also kept telling him he had to be good to her, get her to at least trust he would take care of her, trust he wouldn't hurt her, she barely trusted her beloved teammates, there was no way in hell she would trust him. Though this part of his brain, or the little voice he could have sworn to have heard told him not to get to attached to her, after all he asked her to marry him once and he wasn't surely faking it.

The other part of his brain instead felt pity for her, felt what it used to feel over eight years ago, felt what he had when he'd decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He felt love, now clouded by betrayal and hurt, but strengthened after he found out about her saving Declan from the North Koreans and the local authorities and as much as it pained him, himself.

Whenever she slept he sometimes felt the urge to touch her to caress her shoulder and to pull her against him. When he'd seen her tremble a couple of nights ago he'd wanted to grab his jacket and wrap it around her. But her couldn't, he couldn't let himself get close to her again.

So he let the rational part win over any feeling he still had for her and reminded himself he was keeping her captive, basically, not organizing a tour to Ireland.

That is way when she fist started getting sick he was worried, but kept telling her not to make herself sick and just suck it up. When the illness represented itself over the next few days part of him grew more worried and the other overly annoyed. Both feelings getting stronger, but one was eventually going to overpower the other.

What happened half an hour ago determined the soft and vulnerable part had win over the rational one, for just a second, but still it worried him, made him realize he shouldn't wallow and get on with his plan.

He looked back at the bed he assumed she laid on, exactly where he found her asleep. It wasn't cold, chilly, and she wasn't covered by the blankets. He took the plaid blanket pushed at the feet of the bad and covered her up rationalizing he needed her to be healthy, which she already wasn't, so he needed to do everything he could in order to have her in good shape as soon as possible.

"Ian?" she mumbled, opening her eyes and staring at him, surprise written all over her face. "Are you alright? You seem a bit... off."

He shook his head, profiler right, even sleeping she could tell what he was feeling without looking at him. "You're the one who's not alright. Rest, I'll try a shortest way to Ireland in the meantime."

Emily found herself nodding and let her head fall back on the pillow, his pillow. She didn't want to move to her side, as it was closer to the door and colder. For a second she'd been surprised of his reaction, but she sobered up quickly, she wasn't in any fairytale world where the villain is nice to the princess. Quite the opposite.

She spent the rest of the morning, or rather until about four in the afternoon, sleeping or in bed anyway. She knew it wasn't like her to stay in bed for too long, not even when she was sick, which happened so rarely she didn't even bother rest, just overdose on cold medicine.

When she woke up, to her surprise, her knight in shining armor was nowhere to be seen. At first she thought he was in the 'bathroom' although she didn't heat him move o do anything, but she waited on the bed anyway partially due to the fact that her head still spun and hurt way too much, but also she felt uneasy, a very strange and uncomfortable feeling had settled deep into her stomach. It happened her often to get these _feelings _on the job she called it instinct and she was always, almost, on job mode.

She didn't have to think long about what to do because she felt the bile rise again in her throat for the second time that day. She stood, carefully slow, and made her way towards the door, waited just a second before going out, trying to swallow it. She knew for a fact she wouldn't be able to hold it, when she got pregnant she learned whenever she was really sick she wouldn't be able to compartmentalize and hold it like she did when it was her mind making her sick.

After mere seconds she bolted out of the van and threw up in some bushes. She'd seen in the corner of her eye Ian sitting on a chair staring away. Steadying herself with her hand on a tree nearby again she got sick. It was becoming dangerous and worrisome as she'd barely been eating, but still threw up what she thought to be gastric fluids, not having studied medicine or paid attention in biology class, that was the best she could come up with. Problem was how long she could keep doing this?

Sure, he'd promised to take her to a doctor, but what if her illness was stress related? She couldn't not to stress herself when all her issues came from Ian Doyle and she was positive she'd be staying with him for a while yet, not having been in the right state of mind o plan his murder. She'd allowed herself to wait at the beginning to be in a more stable situation, trying to kill your road trip companion while on a trip seemed a lot of effort and no good chances of success. Also he'd shown interest in keeping her with him and protecting her, so, she'd thought, at least she wouldn't have to worry about him.

What worried her instead, after her stomach decided to relax, wasn't Ian's absence, but the blood on the back of her hand, which she was completely sure wasn't there before she wiped her mouth off.

She turned to him and saw a wave of worry disappear just as quick as it'd appeared. He was still sitting, impassible, watching her. That morning he'd scared her, the way he'd been all over her, giving her his jacket and stopping the whole day just so she'd get better, he'd behaved the same way he had with Lauren. In that moment instead he was distant and almost didn't care.

"I think I might need a doctor after all." she admitted, trying to get a reaction from him.

He looked at her in the eyes and she did see worry, worry that he was trying desperately to hide. "Once we get to Hastings."

She let a tree take all of her weight and leaned over it squeezing her eyes shut for just a moment. "Probably in less than a couple of days would be best." seeing as he's apparently detached himself from her she used the same tactic, not that she'd tried to get close to him, spitting the words out at him.

His eyebrows shot up at her harsh comment. "Based on your judgment? Forgive me, but I've known you as a weapons dealer, killed you as an FBI agent, but not a doctor. Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

He was being sarcastic, but he didn't mean well. Emily bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from lashing out at him, given his current mood it wouldn't probably be a good choice.

"Well then what about what you told me? That you want me to be healthy and in one piece for your twisted deal? I'm not okay." he'd been stressing over her well-being, she hoped she'd touched a soft spot and got the message through.

He sighed, for what felt like a whole day. He knew she was right. He couldn't actually separate her captor from the man who once had loved her, or her cover anyway. His hatred for her had just faded, she'd betrayed him, but saved his son, he could not love her again fully and let things be the way they were for many different reasons, for instance he was th player of this game, she'd played before, but he wasn't going to lose his opportunity now.

"You know better than me you can't go to a hospital and I don't have friends who happen to be doctors in every city in western Europe. It's just a couple of days." he shrugged.

His behavior had managed a hundred eighty turn in the span of approximatively six hours. "Ian what the hell is wrong with you?" Seeing his confused face she continued before sounds came out of his open mouth. "Some times your all over me, like this morning, worrying and hovering, but then you act cold and distant and I don't understand why. We already cleared I'm not going to run, call it depression and suicidal tendencies, call it deal, call it fear of you, call it love for you, frankly call it whatever makes you sleep at night, but for my sake please settle on how _you _feel about this."

He was taken aback by her words. He'd come to know her on a pretty deep level, although, it'd been her cover, in the last few days, weeks, he'd realized those two personalities were more alike than she would have ever cared to admit, being a different person from someone who fell in love with a criminal most likely had set her conscience straight more than a few times. "I don't have to feel anything about this. Nor do you. The way I see it is just business." he responded in a neutral tone.

Emily, who'd slid down the tree and was now sitting on the grass, rolled her eyes not particularly caring whether he saw her. "Yeah right. You felt something back then, hence you must feel something now too. We're not business, too much crap happened for it to be just business."

"Well? What do you want me to say?" Doyle assumed a certain voice that Emily recognized and immediately knew he was being honest. "I wasn't faking anything back then. I asked you to marry me, I think that's pretty clear as to where I stood."

"Eight years ago, what about now? Where do you stand now?"

She could see, even from her weakened state, that he was trying so hard to look and act uncaring and distant, something that came easy to him, a sociopath, though when it came to her and Declan he'd always gone out of his way to make sure both were okay and safe. "Why would you even care? You said it yourself, you won't run, I won't hurt you, what else is there?"

Then there was silence. An incredibly uncomfortable, but short, silence. "I told you fairly recently how I felt. I didn't lie, I wouldn't gain anything lying to you now."

"Like I said, love, it's business and you're the very person that taught it should never get mixed up with pleasure. What about this?"

Emily shrugged. Just like it happened to her, sometimes it felt like he was all over the place, caring then cold, protective than distant. She'd been actually surprised as of lately, but in the first few days Lauren made herself known a lot more. Lauren was what, who, she leaned on when things with Ian got difficult or she just didn't want to react. She let Lauren free and let her be with the man she loved. She'd started to keep her under wraps when she started to become stronger and stronger, not wanting to end up like old Doctor Jekyll.

They once again sat in silence. For longer, but this time it wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. They were sitting in the woods surrounded by chirping birds and the sound of the wind through the trees. Though after not as long as she would've wanted Emily had to head inside. "I'm going in," she informed him. "It's too cold out here."

He just nodded staring straight ahead, determined to enjoy the nature for a little while longer.

During the time she'd slept, he'd tried napping, not successfully as he'd had the urge to check on her more than a few times. The first couple of times he'd stood and poked his head inside just seeing her feet bundled up in the blanket was enough. But then he'd kicked himself, he reminded the weak part f him he needed her, but didn't need to love her and tend to her. So he repressed the urge, thinking and sleeping.

He'd come to the realization he needed to drive that night. He'd lost an entire day of travel because of her, and he needed to get as far as he could every day. He knew somebody was aware she was alive, obviously and so somebody had to be looking for her. Going to Ireland seemed like a very bad move, but all in all it was the smartest he could afford.

He'd thought about going somewhere that didn't lead straight to him, but then remembered he didn't have Liam, he didn't have as many contacts as he used to, so Ireland was the best move given he knew the territory like the back of his hands.

He headed inside just a bunch of minutes after her finding her, unsurprisingly, laying in bed, wrapped up in the plaid blanket staring at the ceiling. "You feeling any better?" he sat on the edge.

She turned her head slightly to him and nodded.

He laid in bed in his place, just like he did every night. He looked at her, stared at her, took in her image. She looked relaxed, pale, but better than she'd looked recently anyway. He remembered watching her sleep, for hours. Watching her dress up before they got together, when she spent the night and had to leave early in the morning.

He touched her shoulder and she flinched and scoot away instinctively. Her eyes burning into his. "What?"

He shook his head and withdrew his hand, "Nothing, I just... I wanted-"

"I think you've lost that right the moment you drove that stake in me." she said, carefully not looking at him, not sure what he'd see, given that she'd never talked about almost dying, that time, with anyone else. "You can't keep switching between wanting to have things back as they were and hating me and pushing me away."

He moved his whole body closer, trapping her between him and the closed trunk door. "I'm sorry about that. I meant what I did, back then. If I'd known before Declan was alive I wouldn't have killed you, tried to."

She snorted louder than she would've wanted, clearly furious. "I have had half a dozen surgeries, was forced into hiding, was in an induced coma for two weeks and you're talking about it as if you got wrong your pizza's topping?" she shook her head. She had to turn, to hide the tears that would fall in an instant. She didn't need him to see her like that, weak.

Before she could roll over, though, his hand traveled to her left hip and covered the area of the red ugly scar. For a second he just left it there, feeling the warmth of her through his hand. Ignoring her confused looks he swiftly lift up her shirt, revealing the horrible mark.

At that she let her head back not wanting to see both the scar and what he did with it. She didn't care if he'd just stare at it, like some trophy, or feel guilty. She didn't want to know, didn't care.

He took in the sight of the mark, red, marred and horrible, it was still healing and from time to time he'd noticed her rub it, obviously it still hurt. It looked like and L, more or less, and he traced the borders with a finger impossibly soft, if he hadn't seen goosebumps erupt all over her body he wouldn't be sure he'd touched her. His fingers kept hovering over the ugly scar for a few more moments, until he leaned over and kissed the upper tip, sending shivers down her spine.

She flinched at the contact, but tried not to move. She tried to stay still and not to react to anything he did, but couldn't stop herself when she felt him pull her shirt further up. "What are you doing?" she whispered.

He looked at her, his gaze said more than his words could ever. His eyes were the same as the first night they spent together years ago. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Wetting her lips she caught his hand with hers before it got under her clothes. "If it were so obvious, I wouldn't ask."

He moved his head up then, to look at her straight in the eyes. While his hands worked to bring her shirt up to her neck and pull it over her head.

"Don't do this." her voice was low and quivering. "Please."

He'd seen her vulnerable, but never this vulnerable. He knew he wasn't going to hurt her, he knew her body well enough to know what it could take. He didn't want to upset her, nor get her to hate him, but as his rational brain reasoned, business is business.

He let his hands undress her as she begged him to stop. He wasn't hurting her, not physically, so in his mind it was okay. "Sorry love, if you relax you might even like it."

He didn't see tears, but knew he would in a matter of minutes.

When he started working on her pants she again asked him to stop begged him and tried to pry his hands away from her, thing was, she wasn't really trying to stop him. Ian Doyle would expect more struggle on her part if she didn't want it.

Emily's tears were now staining the pillow underneath her head, while she still told him to stop every now and then. She couldn't rebel, she'd tried to stop him, but he had all the power at the moment.

After efficiently removing all their clothing, he moved onto her, matching their bodies head to head, shoulder to shoulder, hips to hips. For a second he looked through her tears into her eyes. "Why are you crying?"

She sniffled, "Why do you think I'm crying?" she picked up his ruse and rolled her head on the side looking away.

"Well Emily, believe it or not, but I'm doing this for the both of us."

Before he could move she turned back and grasped both of his hands, "At least use protection." she croaked.

His eyes snapped up, away from his goal. She's always been strict on protection, and he know understood why, but it hadn't seem to matter now. "Aren't you on the pill?"

She shook her head. "It hasn't been my priority."

"I'm clean." he offered, not really comforting her, "besides I don't think you'll have to worry about anything else." generally pointed to her midsection finally tracing the scar one more time. Then he stopped listening to her, knowing she was once again stalling.

He ignored her tears and whimpers, her hands pushing his chest away and her legs trying to kick him away, he went on like it was nothing, he had to do it. It was the plan. He'd waited long enough for his sake. When he finished he crashed over her, for a minute letting her take all of his weight.

As soon as he rolled off on his side, she grabbed the plaid blanket and curled up in the corner, sobs still racking through her. What he did that she definitely didn't expect was to pull her blanket wrapped back to his chest and hold her tight. Gently, lovingly stroking her hair and rubbing her stomach trying to sooth her.


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N No excuses for the late update, life just got in the way. Anyways this chapter sucks, pretty much, or better, I don't like it and I had to do it, so yep this is the result. Note that somethings in here are kind of useful to know for next chapter, which, is not written yet, but will feature Emily and Doyle and how he tried to apologize and explain, at a certain extent, his actions and Emily opens up a bit too about the situation. It should be cool. Far cooler than this one, both to read and to write, so stay tuned._

_Also, as a reader, I know how annoying slow updates are and if I had time to write more I would, seriously. I'll try to work faster or organize my time better. And I wanted to thank everyone that sticks to the story and reads it and keeps reading it despite its slowness (is that a word?), so thank you guys :)_

_I may be getting hooked up with Glee, which would be devastating writing-wise and school-wise, but I'm fighting it, or trying anyway._

* * *

><p>JJ shifted again in her seat. It was getting ridiculous. Hotch had contacted Clyde Easter over three days prior and he just was available now. She didn't know about his and Emily's history, but liked to think they were at least friends and he cared for her. He hadn't even reacted when she'd told him they needed to meet to discuss Emily related issues. She shifted again, much for Hotch's annoyance.<p>

"He was supposed to be here two hours ago." mumbled Hotch, breaking a too long and uncomfortable pause.

JJ shrugged, she'd met the man twice. She didn't like him, but despite her feelings he was the only one that could do this. "I know. He probably is taking precautions."

He leaned his head back, inhaling deeply. He'd been taken aback by Emily's disappearance. Differently from the others, he'd known her before she joined the BAU and her mother had filled him on her when he'd security detail at her place. He'd been told of this rebel and reckless person, didn't follow the rules well and enjoyed partying just a bit too much.

He'd later met her at the ball, before she'd sneaked out with a friend. He'd been surprised by her, she was... different. She was beautiful, but the dress hair and make up did nothing to underline that beauty, nor her clumsy walk or well mannered behavior. Deep down he'd always known that was her mother's daughter and not Emily, but he'd never thought about her until she landed in his office at the BAU.

He knew she was with Interpol, but had felt a bit dumbfound when they uncovered her past with Doyle, especially as she'd always acted so professional and privately that finding out she'd crossed the line on the job felt a bit out of character. He couldn't say he'd known her well, though, he'd never went through the effort of getting to know her much differently from his colleagues. The main reason had probably been his divorce. She wasn't his type, not physically, but she distracted him and tempted him. He knew he would never ever have acted on whatever attracted her to him, but still he preferred to pair her up with Morgan or sometimes even Rossi.

Was he somehow jealous of how close she'd gotten with Morgan? Not in this moment, it was hard enough knowing she was alive, alone, somewhere off the map with no one to reach out to. He still saw how it was tearing Morgan apart, who was bottling everything up, trying not to burden anyone with him pain.

"There." Hotch pointed to a flashing light on the other side of the road. He started the car again and pulled over near where he'd seen the light. In a few minutes someone got into the backseat in a rush.

When he managed to sit he looked at the front row. "Hey JJ, Agent Hotchner."

"What about 8pm wasn't clear?"asked JJ clearly irritated, she'd met the British man a few times when she was arranging Emily's new identities.

He shed his coat and scarf, used mainly as disguise as it was starting to get seriously hot. "Someone out there is trying to kill me, be a bit more understanding."

JJ nodded, while Hotch grew more and more uneasy. "What do you know?" piped in the blond, noticing how her leader's head was miles away from the car.

"What do _you_ know?"

The arrogant tone was enough for Hotch to snap out of his trance. "Need I remind you we asked your collaboration, not the other way around?"

The British in the backseat scoffed. "Do you even know where she is now?"

Two heads whipped to the backseat.

He'd heard they'd lost contact with her, he hadn't been in contact with her, but he'd been tracking her. Ever since he'd found out about Doyle finding her he'd been keeping her on strict surveillance, both her and Doyle.

"How do you know her position?" Hotch was still mistrustful, but this man was their only hope. Apparently the Emily that worked in the FBI and the Emily that worked for the CIA were very different. As JJ had pointed out he was likely to be their only hope to find Emily. "How do we know you actually know?"

Clyde smiled smugly, they'd had a rocky start and still Hotchner didn't quite trust him. "You lost before or after Venice?" his tone had challenge written all over it.

Before could continue the pissing competition he had going on with Clyde she interrupted. "You know where she is right now?"

"Answer me first." he responded calmly, leaning against the back of his seat. "We can both play your game, or you could trust that I actually care about her and that I have" he was about to say he'd never betrayed her, but he didn't want to lie, nor tell them about the story, so decided to go for omission. "I have always protected and looked after her."

Hotch's eyebrows shot up, his tone was revealing far too much to the profiler, that for once understood his positions. He didn't trust the man, but he could work with him if it meant bringing Emily back. "Okay."

He nodded at JJ, who had the detailed information, and she begun. "When she was in Venice we kept in contact, but then she disappeared and we found out she was missing, because the local authorities found her cell."

He nodded. "That's it? You just lost her?" his tone wasn't accusing it was surprised if anything.

"You obviously know more." prompted him Hotch, encouraging him to continue.

Clyde wet his lips, the realization that what he was going to have to tell them in a few seconds would shock them out of their wits was about ten seconds too late. They didn't know about Emily and Doyle, namely, but not what happened, not what's gone on during those months when she was with him. "I do, but you don't know enough."

JJ's eyebrows furrowed together. "What does that mean?" it was accusatory now.

He shook his head and continued. "I was talking about Emily and Ian Doyle." once he was sure he got their full attention he went on, he really didn't want to have to repeat himself. "You can't possibly understand what's going on now if you don't know what happened back then."

"What do you mean?"

"You know about how Emily was undercover and had to basically seduce Doyle into giving her enough intel on his operation so she could be pulled out. It started as a short assignment, she'd done dozens. What happened is that she got in too deep too fast." he started, he didn't want to spill the beans and tell them everything, she wasn't really dead, if he uncovered too much they would surely look at her differently. Omission.

"Ian Doyle fell for her right away. I'm not talking love at first sight, but sort of, sure. She, Lauren, didn't take long either."

This piece of information had both agents widen their eyes and dropping their jaws. "Yeah. We hadn't anticipated it either. She's generally very good at compartmentalization. It just happened I guess."

JJ shook her head in disbelief. "She fell in love with him?" she breathed.

He shrugged his shoulders. "No, Emily stopped herself from going _that_ far, but Lauren, that's a whole different story."

"You talk about her cover as a person." Hotch observed. Clyde knew he couldn't get them up to speed on Emily's work in an hour in a car. He was trying. Trying to tell them everything and nothing at the same time.

"I'll get there." he promised. "As I was saying, she wasn't in love, but she did care for him, and now I assume she genuinely loved that little boy. She did everything to keep her distance and at the same time she got always closer to him. It was a vicious cycle."

JJ nodded understanding, Hotch, on the other hand, just looked down to his lap.

"When we pulled her out she was a mess. Part of her had lost the man she loved, part of her was finally free after being someone else for over a year. Emotionally we all thought she wouldn't recover, even knowing her pretty well," he added noting the faces before him. "She managed to merge Emily and Lauren, slowly becoming Emily again. Though she lost part of her and still had traces of Lauren here and there."

After he finished he stopped and sat back, giving them both a moment to make sense of what just happened. He was more than aware than with this notion their opinion and view of the brunette changed, but it'd already changed when she 'died', it didn't really matter now.

JJ, the first to compose herself, looked over at her boss who was breathing heavily not giving away any other sign of reaction to the British man's words. Catching the blue eyes staring at him he turned and got Clyde's attention. "Where is she now?"

He nodded and sat forward. "When she was in Venice Doyle found her. I don't know what happened between the two of them, fact is she is traveling with him as we speak."

"With him? Like willingly or has he kidnapped her?"

Clyde sighed. "I don't know. I've seen her, from afar, and she doesn't look to be captive, I mean she's free of handcuffs. Don't get this wrong. There is absolutely no way she'd go with him willingly. He must be blackmailing her somehow."

"You said she'd traveling, where?" Hotch interrupted what he considered to be rambling.

"I'm not sure, but last I checked," he looked at his watch. "so about an hour ago, she was in England, and in my opinion and experience I think it's safe to assume they're headed to Ireland, but that's just a guess."

JJ tilted her head. "Why go to Ireland? It's the most obvious place, the first place they'll look."

He nodded. "So here comes second thing. No one is looking for Ian Doyle."

"What do you mean?" Hotch quipped in irritated. "I know you told her someone was looking to take him down."

"White lies don't hurt." he simply explained. "She's surely not going to blame me for lying, besides, I've been working on something you could help me with."

"What are you doing?"

Clyde cleared his throat. "Well if nobody's going to catch him then I will. I'm working on a plan."

"A plan?" JJ asked surprised. "What kind of plan?"

"Business. He has Emily and he wants to at least stay with her for now. He's going to need fake identities and for this very occasion I'll be the one to give him that."

Hotch narrowed his eyes, he couldn't get over his dislike for the man, but he had to admit he was good at what he did. "Isn't it dangerous? For you and for her?"

"Of course. For me especially, remember I'm in hiding too. But not so much for her, trust me, from the way I've seen him act around her he is no threat to her. However, I need to bring him down with little to none collateral damage. I might need you and you might need me. "

It didn't take JJ a whole long to agree to work with him. She was again processing all that Clyde'd said, about Emily caring for Doyle and she running off, albeit not voluntarily, with him. And now she was with him and who knows what he was doing to her, how she felt if she was working on an escape plan too. "I'm in."

Both her and Clyde looked at Hotch expectantly.

"Alright. What have you already planned out?"


	16. Chapter 16

_I could write a book on how much I suck for not updating for over two months. For real. Truth is __I kind of went through writer block (whoa, big words) right before my computer broke down and I got it back last week when I started freaking out over packing for my upcoming two week trip to England. So that's pretty much it._

_As for the story, same old. This chapter serves more as a filler than anything, it's mostly plotless. Anybody who stuck with this story, you guys are awesome and please don't give up, I'm trying my hardest right now and hopefully I'll post one more chapter before leaving._

* * *

><p>June 8th, 2011<p>

Emily awoke in the middle of the night, not a strange occurrence, not since they'd moved.

Ian, as promised, had brought her to the doctor to find out she had an ulcer. All her symptoms disappeared with the medicine he gave her, but ever since Ian had been over protective of her. After that they'd gotten to Ireland and stopped in Kilkenny, for business as he called it, and then arrived home.

Home was as specific as Emily could describe it. She'd been sleeping when he moved them from Kilkenny to this place, so she had no real knowledge of the place. She could recognize the western coast of Ireland, but that was as precise as she could be.

It was a beautiful place, isolated and peaceful. It was near the coast and with not one house around and basically nothing around but nature and a couple of sheep. She sometimes walked down the shore, letting the ocean wet her feet, or sat on the rocks watching the seagulls fly in and out.

The house was a cozy cottage which belonged to his family. It was mostly a typical cottage, a kitchen, bathroom, living room and so on, but something she'd fallen in love with immediately was the window seat. It was in the study on the second floor, it faced directly the sea and the bright green hill in front of them.

She threw on a t shirt a gym shorts, it was night, but still she couldn't just go around naked. She walked down the stone path to the beach, barefoot, it wasn't too cold just a bit chilly. She'd been doing this a lot, waking up and wandering around. She thought it was partially due to the change in their relationship, it was nothing new, well in a sense it was. She kept insisting she wasn't Lauren Reynolds and emotionally, psychologically maybe it was true, but physically what Lauren experienced Emily experienced.

Whenever Ian touched her what she felt was what Lauren felt. She'd gotten over the fear and revolting feeling she had initially and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. She knew she had to get away and now that she was at 'home' she could think about it, planning a way out on the move hadn't been too successful. She needed to leave and to make sure he wouldn't go after her, which meant only one thing. The one thing she could never bring herself to do, she couldn't kill him in cold blood, during their fight in the warehouse it had been one thing, but now he was actually trying with her, which scared her infinitely.

When she reached the beach she let her toes flex testing the sand. It wasn't fine and light because it'd rained in the afternoon, but it was still a good feeling. She walked toward the ocean, she couldn't see much, but the sun was rising in less than half an hour so she just followed the sound and let it guide her. Once she reached the spot that qualified she sat down and looked ahead, in the dark.

She missed the team, Sergio and maybe even her mother. She'd already gone long without her loved ones, but this time it was inevitably different, for most of them she was dead and for the ones who knew she was still living and breathing she was off the grid, disappeared. She knew for a fact that they would look for her, but probably were stuck. For just a moment she considered the thought of the team bursting in the cottage to kill Doyle and take her home.

She'd happened to think about similar shenanigans before falling asleep some days. During the day instead she found herself contemplating the idea of her escape plan, but always came up empty. In her mind she was missing a variable, something or someone she needed. At the moment she wasn't rushing to go. Ian had treated her very well over the past week or so, after that accident, he'd been caring and gentle.

She hadn't thought of the _accident_, like her mind had named the short encounter that left her crying in his arms. She'd purposefully avoided the topic during her long thinking session over the past few days.

She sat down, conscious of the fact that her shorts would get wet, she didn't particularly care.

After no longer than ten minutes, during which she'd been drawing on the sand, she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Already leaving messages? I have to tell you, not a soul comes by here in this season."

She laughed. "With my training it would be kind of dumb. What are you doing out here?"

He sat next to her close, but not enough to touch her. "Have to keep you under my watch, I suppose it would be hard to find you if I were to lose you again."

Emily nodded. "I guess." She stood then and walked towards the water letting the waves cover her feet once and again. "But from here I probably wouldn't go far. I don't even know where we are."

"That's good." He mimicked her actions and stood not far from her. "Although I don't think you're rushing to go."

She frowned, a puzzled look taking over her features. "I'm sorry what?"

He shrugged his shoulder, faking indifference. He knew she catch his bluff right that second, but it was still fun. With a chuckle he added. "Well it is breathtakingly beautiful out here. Besides where would you go? _Home_?"

"You're a bastard." she rushed past him and straight towards the little cottage. Home was that place at the moment and in her mind it wasn't going to be anything else for the next few weeks, whatever she did to escape, if, it wouldn't be immediate.

He was partially right, she hadn't been in a rush to leave or go. She was regaining some sort of equilibrium in her life, ignoring completely the fact that she was with a terrorist whose abuse she accepted without even complaining. Stockholm Syndrome. Maybe or maybe not. She didn't identify with Ian, she just knew him very well. That was what she'd been telling herself lately anyway.

Right past the door she headed to the kitchen and pulled out the strongest whiskey she found. While she was looking for a glass Ian sneaked up on her and took the bottle into his hands. "No drinking for you, love."

"What?"

He smiled and glared at her, as a parent with their kid. "Because you had an ulcer until not long ago. I am fairly sure alcohol isn't the most appropriate drink. Perhaps I could offer you some water or even juice."

She just stared at him open mouthed. "You cannot be serious Ian."

"More than serious actually. You can't drink, period."

She laughed out loud. "I can't drink. Yesterday you told me I can't smoke. What is this, rehab?"

He said nothing and left, the bottle of whiskey safely tucked under his arm and away from her reach as would all the other alcohol products in the house as soon as she was asleep.

She had a degree in psychology, she'd been recruited in the CIA and in one of the elite units of the FBI and yet she couldn't figure out what he was doing. Why, especially, although on the job she'd learned that too often there isn't a why behind every person's actions. Of course that was before the case solver person in her made itself known.

It happened right after storming out of the kitchen and up to the bedroom.

She'd thoroughly looked into every drawer and every corner of the old wooden wardrobe, she'd come up with just a bunch of dusty old flannel shirts and worn out pants, something you'd expect to find in an old cottage. What was weird, and she'd noticed right away, was the chair in the corner of the room, just by the window. It seemed new and even though it matched the rest of the furniture it had something, Emily couldn't quite place her finger on it. And surely it wasn't the soft blanket neatly placed across the back.

It was Declan's, most likely, it was lavender with beige squirrels over it. The first time she'd seen it she'd narrowed her eyes and tilted slightly her head and stood like that so long that strange popping sounds came from her neck when she turned away. It was probably when he was a baby but, she'd realized, she had never seen it before.

So whose blanket was this?


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N: I should have uploaded something sooner. I got caught up with school and health issues and writing was just left behind. I'm not going to lie I had a major writer's block, partially due to my own personal psyche and to the fact that CM just sucked for a while. I mean, seriously, the last what, fifteen episodes were terrible, save for a few random ones. This is a writing technique which I don't personally like as it may seem the easy way out to not writing a whole chunk of the story, but in this case it would have taken months to get this out in actual chapters, so yeap, I'll stop rambling. leave comments and whatever you feel like, I can take the hate. Aaand I changed my name, again, I need to stop doing it and I will, promise._

* * *

><p>He walked through the gate of the cemetery. For most people it's a scary, gloomy place, but he did not believe in God or in supernatural forces, which allowed him to find peace there. In fact in the mile walk from the gate to his destination he saw maybe two or three people either crying or mourning in silence.<p>

He enjoyed the creaking of the leaves under the souls of his shoes. The flowers were long gone from the trees, unlike the last time he was there. He could hear the wheels turning in his head, a feeling he'd dreaded most of his life.

Although now that he believed to have reached e third of life he'd begun to dread other things, he'd started to feel other impulses.

He sat in front of the grave.

He felt a strange source of comfort coming from within. He should have done it more often as comfort was one of the things he missed more and wasn't able to provide himself.

He crossed his legs instinctively and stared at the engravings on the stone for some time trying to get his thoughts together. He'd never done a such thing, not believing in life after death, not believing a dead body could hear. He knew for a fact the others had come several times, especially Morgan and Rossi, given their religious beliefs, but he was sure Garcia had too and even JJ and Hotch had maybe talked about it once. They'd tried to convince him to go, that he should let go of all his scientific theories and for once let his feelings have the upper hand. His reply though had been something along the line of empirism being a long gone line of thought.

Not knowing what to do or say he fished a book out of his bag and just kept it in his lap without reading it or even flickng through the pages, he held onto it as if it were a security blanket. So many things he wanted to say, but he had no idea how.

"I'm sorry." he started in a trembling voice. "I didn't get to say goodbye. I wanted to, but uh- JJ said it was better not to, said to remember what'd been."

He was fidgeting, playing with the angle of the book, the creases of his pants. "I won't try to understand what you did or why... I don't think I can. I know you didn't tell us to protect us, but I wish you had, I wish you'd given us the chance to help."

He sniffled. He wasn't crying he was just upset. He was sitting alone staring at the grave of one of his best friends. He had never realize how big a part of his life she was until she died, until she'd gone missing. When they'd been taken hostage by the cult, when shed been beaten by Cyrus he hadn't felt it, they were together and maybe they weren't so close.

"I miss you." he sighed. "We all miss you, but all the others... They have someone and I just don't. It's the kind of situation I would have come to you."

He fixed his glasses over his nose. His personal opinion was that his relapsing sight was psychosomatic still, he'd had to wear glasses since a few months prior. "I need, want, to tell you so many things. I need your help... Things are... getting worse lately. I think despite what everyone thinks I'm better than most of us."

He chuckled. "You know Morgan doesn't smile anymore, I think he's depressed. I think something happened with him. Something that I can't quite place. I think it hit him harder than most of us, I mean we're all close but you two always seemed... closer. I know it's none of my business I just... I wish I could help him. It's really paradoxical for me to try and help him. He's just... always... there. He's alone all the time, doesn't come out anymore, he just... survives in a sense. Doesn't smile anymore." he trailed off.

His back was starting to ache he'd been sitting in the same position for long. "I thought Garcia would take care of him, but she's had other thoughts on her mind I can't tell you much, because she's only talked about it with JJ. I guess something happened with her, with Kevin. They didn't break up, but that's as far as I know. Maybe she's even told you herself. She's taken the whole thing surprisingly well. I mean, she doesn't seem affected at all by your..." he stopped. For a second he'd forgotten he was talking to a rock.

For a second he'd expected a person staring back at him, actually listening to him, he'd expected a chuckle, a gasp, any reaction from whoever was listening. He wasn't talking to anyone, though.

"JJ, she - she's changed. She is distant and apparently above everything. It might be a coping mechanism, I know, but it sure doesn't feel like it. She's been meeting with Hotch after hours. When they think everybody is gone they close in his office and shut the blinds. I saw them once, but I never asked or anything. I stopped by her place a couple of times," more like a hundred. "and she offered comfort as if I was the only one who'd lost someone. I don't get how she does it, how she doesn't care at all."

It felt weird to talk about things he most likely wouldn't have talked about to another person and telling them to the wind. "You know Rossi is seeing his first ex, Caroline I think her name is. You wouldn't believe it if you saw it. He seems another person altogether. He's nice, nicer, and he got this... fatherly attitude with everyone around. He's been helping Morgan out a lot, I think he understands whatever bond you two had, Morgan responds to him the most. Weird right?" he smirked.

He stared at her name for a very long time unsure of what to say next. His brain was going so fast it was hard even for him to register any of his thoughts. He had so many feelings and no way to feel. He was angry at her, mad, he wanted to scream. And yet he couldn't, it wouldn't make any sense to scream alone in a cemetery.

"You know Emily the more I think about what happened in the last few months the more it loses sense. I'm a man of science, I don't believe in coincidences or anything of the sort, I can't blame fate or destiny or whatever way you want to call it. I can't blame you. You were doing your job. To be honest though there are so many things that don't fit, that just don't make sense."

He looked down at his hands playing with the book. "For starters I don't even know why I am talking to this... shrine. I clearly remember you saying you wanted to be cremated, I know you, you would have left it written somewhere. And the funeral. Your own mother wasn't there. I don't believe she was busy as Hotch said, your not too busy to go to your daughter's funeral. I think, and I hope to be wrong, that I've been kept in the dark about something. Paranoid? I might be, yeah, but most people call me a genius so I can't be too far off track."

He stopped for a bit. His forehead was sweating. Due to the heat most likely, but he was agitated and was overthinking everything. He stopped for a moment. He didn't have a mirror, but he could tell he was flushed, breathing heavily, his heartbeat was pounding in his ears. "I feel so confused." he eventually got out. "I mean, for the first time in my whole life what happened doesn't make sense in any possible way. There's absolutely no way to explain how you died and all of this just happened."

What he didn't know is that right at the other end of the neatly placed mic, in one of the fake white roses, someone was listening to his every word. The mic had been placed for security, of who, that wasn't quite clear. It'd registered everything waiting exactly for someone who might doubt of the reality of the brunette's death, someone who could potentially jeopardize the whole plane. Nobody could jeopardize the plan.

_Kind of a cliffhanger I know. Next will be up either later or tomorrow, for reals._


	18. Chapter 18

June 20th, 2011

The blanket was Chloe's, when she was little. Emily sure hadn't dared to ask who Chloe was. She'd felt as she'd been invading some kind of personal zone of his, after all she didn't really know him that well. He didn't seem to mind the question when she'd gathered enough courage to ask, meaning it wasn't anything important or something not concerning her. Either case she'd dropped the matter.

She was once again sitting on the sand in front of the house. She didn't even know what day it was, but it felt like an eternity since he got her. Things with Doyle had been going better than she expected, they didn't talk, he sometimes ordered her around a bit, but no one was harmed since they got to Ireland. Luckily.

As she dug a rock from under the sand her mind wandered away to what was on the other side of the ocean. She was almost positive they were on the western side of Ireland. On the other coast there was her family, her team. Her family. She thought of them rarely as the mere of remembering bits of her old life brought her on the verge of tears. As always her eyes started to swell with tears, tears that she knew wouldn't fall. She didn't cry, couldn't cry, she couldn't afford to lose it while she was being held captive.

Speaking of, she was still in the dark as for Ian's plan. He'd offered her a deal and he'd kept his promise so far, but she hadn't done anything in exchange. Her own mind snorted. He'd abused her, hurt her and who knows what else he was going to do whenever he lost his temper. Knowing that everyone she cared about was safe form him for now was enough for her.

She tossed the rock in an upcoming wave and watched it being swallowed up by the water. Sometimes she thought being swallowed up by earth and disappear would be the best for everyone. For herself too.

After being pulled out of the Doyle op she was diagnosed with a very mild form of a bipolar disorder. It wasn't a double personality disorder, the fact that she was Emily and Lauren at the same time didn't create a double persona. They said since Lauren was a side of Emily and not a completely different person she every now and then would experience mood swings, _much like if you were pregnant, _they'd said chuckling. It was funny, apparently.

She'd taken meds for a while and then realized being away from Ian Doyle was the best cure of all. So now that she lived with him it was a roller coaster of emotions all day long. She went from planning his death to thinking that living with him wasn't so bad after all and since it meant Ian not hurting anyone it was fine by her.

They were sleeping in the same bed, some nights she would cuddle up with him and others she would not sleep and wander down the shore so she wasn't even near him.

She knew she had to kill him in order to free herself. A team was trying to kill him, she shouldn't worry about that. Surely they weren't doing a good job, not good enough. She trusted Clyde, but she knew she would have to do it herself and switching from Lauren to Emily all the time was helping at all.

When the first raindrop hit her forehead she knew she'd have to go back inside. Ian had specific on that, as on many other things, that she shouldn't be out in the rain or she'd get sick. He was hovering actually, something she didn't pay much attention to, she'd been pretty sick after all, so it wasn't that strange. What was strange was some things he insisted on, like no smoking or drinking or eating some kinds of foods. The doctor must have recommended all of those, but still it'd passed more than enough time for her to at least go back to her old eating and smoking regime.

Passing the kitchen she went up to the bedroom, hoping not to run into Ian. There wasn't a lot to do in the bedroom, there were a few books, classics she'd already read too many times. Not that there was any more to do in the rest of the house. She sometimes cooked, cleaned mostly.

"Emily." Damn. She hadn't been fast enough to avoid him.

She turned back and stood on the doorstep of the living room where he was sitting on a chair where he'd been talking on the phone. She looked at him, giving him full attention. "Pack everything you have here."

Well that sure wasn't what she'd been expecting. She frowned and tilted her head trying to understand. So many different case scenarios made their way to her head, the two which stood out the most were something along the lines of him wanting to get rid of her and not bother gathering all her stuff to destroy and the other, the best overall, them moving which could be both good or bad, surely it wouldn't help her if they moved to China.

"Alright." she went for the answer that wouldn't generate a discussion. She couldn't even dream of asking why. He wouldn't tell and could get mad at her for no reason, so much she'd picked up on after interacting with him for so long. "Is everything okay?"

He seemed to be taken aback by her question. "Yeah. Just business."

"Oh. I didn't know you still had contacts." she stated, small talk.

He snorted. "As in they were all shot in the warehouse?"

She narrowed her eyes and stared at him for a second. "What about the warehouse?"

Of course she'd been so out of it she hadn't noticed the shooting going on around her. She'd been literally dying, when Morgan had arrived she'd just seen a blur moving over her. Not that she remembered much, his words, the lights of the ambulance. Emily distinctly remembered the feeling. The feeling that took over her when she died, for a few seconds she'd really died.

"Your friends killed everyone in the warehouse to get to you and try to save you." he replied bitterly. She knew then, Liam was among the men killed. Liam had been a business partner, his right hand, but over all he was his best friend, the person he trusted the most. She'd never realized. "Guess they did a good job, uh?"

Emily had been so caught up in thoughts regarding Liam that she hadn't even heard him. "What?"

"They fixed you up pretty well." he nodded at her casually. "The scar isn't that bad."

Right. It wasn't so bad. Maybe she would ask him a few more since it _wasn't that bad_. "Right."

"C'mere." He gestured for her to move closer.

She moved swiftly towards him as she carefully scrutinized his eyes she'd learned were the mirror of his soul exactly like the legend. She'd seen calm and confidence. It was good. As soon as she realized he had no intention to hurt her she felt a familiar wave coming over her. The Lauren wave. She didn't want to, but she couldn't help it, avoid it.

She was standing in front of him. And he stood to look at her in the eyes.

For some indefinite amount of time they just stared at each other. Seconds, minutes, who knows. He seemed to be admiring her, contemplating her eyes, her gaze. On the other hand she was looking for a hint of his intentions, but gradually started to match his adoration. Then his eyes dropped to her chest where she'd left the soft white linen shirt open a bit.

For a second she wanted to to move away, but she was also intrigued by his actions. He slowly delicately raised his hand and brushed aside her shirt exposing the burn scar. "You didn't have them cover this up. I wonder why." he breathed out, loud enough that only she could hear. Obviously there wasn't anyone else there, but if they weren't standing so close to one another, she wouldn't have heard.

His eyes found their way back to hers. He waited for her to answer, but instead she just looked down. "Why didn't you?" he tilted his chin toward her. "Plastic surgery could give you a third eye if you wanted, covering, masking a burn scar is a walk in the park."

"The doctors were more focused on the stake in my stomach. On saving me."

His hand moved downward to where he knew he would feel the scar through her shirt. He tracing the like of the scar over and over. Her eyes shut, she hissed. She wasn't sure what he was doing, but whatever it was it wasn't harmful, so Emily let Lauren be. It wasn't until his other hand gripped her waist that she somehow regained her wits. Her hands were still along her body and Emily had absolutely no intentions of moving them.

With her eyes closed she no idea what he was doing. She felt him get closer. She felt his body was separated from hers by a thin layer of air. His hands was still on her waist. For what felt like a few minutes he didn't move. All she could hear was the breaking of the waves against a nearby cliff and the seagulls and the swooshing of the wind through the trees and the pitter patter of the rain against the glass of the windows. It was paradoxically what she once thought of as paradise, only nature and her. Just she wasn't alone. She was with the man that'd almost killed her a few months before.

Emily made it. So that when he inched closer, so close she could feel his breath on her face, and in a second his intentions were crystal clear, her hands firmly placed on his chest pushed him away slightly, just enough that she couldn't smell the cigarette and vodka breath on her.

When they were far enough from each other she noticed his eyes weren't disapproving, just curious.

"You can't do this to me. Not again." she chocked out, before walking up to the bedroom. She stopped just for a second before the stairs just to be sure he wasn't following her. The creaking floor provided that much at least.

She was almost all the way up when she heard a faint. "Just get your stuff together for tomorrow morning."

She was torn between thinking she'd done the right thing and thinking she'd just blown it.

* * *

><p><em>I just wanted to address something I didn't last time. <em>

anon: It isn't an ulcer! I bet she's pregnant and that's why he is making her stop drinking and smoking. He got the doctor to give her anti-nausea meds and made sure that he didn't tell her what was actually is all part of his "plan". That's why he raped her earlier in chapter 14. Plus the blanket is for the new baby. And that might explain why he is being nicer to her, especially in lieu of the fact that Declan's mom tried to kill herself when she was pregnant. He is ensuring the safety of his new child.

_I re-read the whole story and I didn't realize how this might be so true, I mean it would fit perfectly. Anyway it is not true, for now. It would be an interesting turn I think, we'll see. _

_Side note, feel free to ruin my 100 reviews milestone and add some more. I could really use some motivation._


	19. Chapter 19

_This took me awhile to write honestly, it's one of the most boring chapters ever, I swear. But, big but, your reviews generated a major plot change. Whether I like it or not that's what gets my head running. So it took a lot of research and it's going to get a bit more medical later on, but it gave me inspiration, so keep it up people._

_Just out of curiosity, is really no one even intrigued by the title of the story? __I mean, I'd think the author's like crazy or something (which you probably do), but still._

* * *

><p>July 15th, 2011<p>

_REH TSOL._

JJ had been going crazy over that text message for a good two weeks. She'd received from a blocked number and at first she hadn't given it much thought. Somebody could have sent it by mistake or it could've been a butt-dialed text. From a blocked number. As time passed she started to study it and started to realized it might not be the most random text in history, but, seeing as she was involved in something nobody knew about, a key. In fact paying attention to the letters it was obvious it wasn't butt-dialed, the auto-correct on any phone would have changed the words into some meaningful ones. Moreover these letters couldn't have been typed by mistake, on any keyboard or even on phone buttons they aren't close, not in the way a they'd have to be for this to be pressing casually buttons.

The more she thought about it, the more she analyzed it, the more she leaned to the conclusion it must be something damn important if someone went through so much trouble for just a text.

The more she felt like she might have wasted, be wasting, precious time.

After a week she'd gone to Hotch. He had absolutely no idea what to do about it. It was just about two days after JJ, sleepless as of almost a week then, gave up and asked Garcia. At first she'd started asking questions which JJ dodged like a pro. Said it was something she'd found on Reid's report and had no idea what it was about and needed to translate it in order to close the case.

"But JJ, it's not an anagram or anything," she turned upside-down the little sticky note on which JJ had delivered it. "Lost her. It's so like him. I think most of the time he doesn't realize that you mortals do not see this immediately."

JJ smirked and postponed self punishment for being incredibly stupid after going to Hotch. "_Us_?"

Garcia just smiled and turned back to the computer. "Didn't I just solve that for you? Smack him for me will ya?"

JJ patted her friend's shoulder and turned to leave. "Sure."

After she closed the door she took a moment to breathe and leaned on the wall feeling like the stupidest person alive. It was the kind of play with letters she used to apply to her secret journal so her brother wouldn't read. She took another deep breath thinking that if this was what she thought one of her friends could be in real danger.

"Ya okay?"

Suddenly she cursed herself for not almost-breaking down in a private place. Of course not doing it in front of Morgan's office would have been smarter in any case, but especially right in that moment when she needed to rush to tell Hotch about the message. "Yeah. Just..." Just not any good, or quick, at making up excuses. She frowned and clenched her fist in which was secured the note. "I just need Garcia to look something up for me."

She knocked and let herself in again.

"Hey can you trace the location this message was sent from?"

Garcia turned and smiled at her. "Did you really need to ask?"

JJ smiled back, between worrying and feeling guilty she hadn't had time to think of some witty way to talk to the tech. "Right, so will you?"

"'Course chica. Who sent it?"

Good one. For real. She didn't know for sure first hand, secondly she couldn't tell Garcia she'd been keeping in touch with Emily's ex boss for whatever reason, it would have sparked, well, lit up a whole fire of interest given Garcia's dedication to gossip. Big no-no. "I... uh... don't really know to be honest. It was a blocked number."

Garcia frowned, actually puzzled at JJ's answer. "Oh. But then why were you so anxious to know what was the text? I mean, it might have been just a mistake..."

"From a blocked number is never a mistake. I thought it was about a case. Working with serial killers is that unpredictable." she sighed.

The blond tech nodded and went to work her magic on the keyboard. It took several minutes, but, as always, she turned with a smile toward JJ. "Gotcha."

"So..."

"It's from a burner, so no id, sorry," she started scrolling down the window. "Aaand it's from somewhere... in Ireland?" she turned toward JJ with a frown so deep she might as well had one eyebrow.

What surprised her the most was the fact that JJ's expression matched hers to a tee.

Since Emily's death she'd noticed something going on in the office, but had not given it much thought. After all everyone copes in different and she was no one to judge. When it continued for months afterward she'd started getting curious and poked around the security footage a bit during her breaks. She'd caught JJ and Hotch meeting after hours, during lunch or whenever they thought there was no one around. Affair? Nah, JJ would never do it, sure things with Will were complicated, but she would never cheat. Not wanting to ask she'd just dropped the matter, but not the snooping.

"Ireland? Then it must be a mistake," JJ took a step back and hid her hand, which was previously on the back of the tech's chair, behind her back as it was shaking pretty badly. "I don't know anyone over there."

"Yeah but Jayje, couldn't it be about..." not sure whether to drop the bomb for both JJ's apparent upset state and the fact it meant re-opening old wounds. "about Doyle maybe?"

Seeing JJ bewildered expression she took her pause to speak again. "Well he isn't dead so it could be about him, right?"

JJ passed a hand over her face and into her hair. "No... no," she backed away toward the door. "it's a mistake Garcia." she stumbled out of the door nearly hitting the desk chair.

This time she waited to be on the roof to lose it, which revealed to be a really good choice as it was nearly deserted, or anyway the people over there could not care a bit about what was happening.

JJ felt confused over all. Scared, stupid and a thousand other emotions she couldn0t even separate one from the other. The confusion though was the worst. It made everything lose the little sense it had. Right, exactly the right word to describe everything that'd been going on the past few months. Nonsense.

JJ slid against the three feet tall wall on the edge of the roof and hugged her knees to her chest just like she used to do when she was young. When nothing made sense. When her sister took her own life. When her father left not to come back ever again. When Emily died, but she didn't. It made no sense for the text to be from Ireland. Easter has said Emily and Doyle were traveling, around England, so it made sense for Doyle to be in Ireland, that was home for him. Was he in Ireland too? Hadn't mentioned anything to either her or Hotch when he'd promised he'd tell about his every move. He hadn't called for about a month, but what he had in mind took a lot of planning so she didn't really give it much thought.

She did the only thing she could think of in that moment, something she should have done two weeks prior to then, she called the number back, knowing that because it was a burner she might have lost that chance.

"Hello." came a rough, heavily accented voice from the other side of the phone. It sounded completely calm and steady, but JJ's trained ear didn't miss the hint of uneasiness it hid, albeit very well, and the almost imperceptible anticipation it held.

She cleared her throat not knowing what to say. She recognized the voice, but didn't know what to make of it. "Clyde?" she tried, not even realizing that it came out above a whisper and he most likely hadn't heard. After a few seconds of silence she thought of speaking again, but was interrupted.

"JJ? You got the message?"

Relieved it was exactly who she thought it was she sighed and started telling him about how long it'd taken her to decipher it and how stupid she felt, only to feel stupider when she realized she'd been talking about her when he most likely had some seriously important news. "Wait. What was the text about?"

"Uh. Don't get mad until you hear it all." he started, knowing she would get mad anyway, but saying so at least he hoped she wouldn't scream at him before he finished talking. "So I tracked Emily to Ireland. I found her and I immediately went down to keep an eye on her." he heard JJ gasp and, even though he couldn't see, he knew she was biting her tongue to keep from interrupting. "They were in a house just in Clare County. A few days ago I didn't see anyone anymore. So I waited. I knew they couldn't have seen me because I've been observing them from afar. Anyway I waited and got closer and closer to the house and I went in when I sent you the message."

"Where are they? Is Emily okay? Have you tracked them down yet-"

Luckily for him instead of getting mad JJ got worried. "Slow down a second. I haven't found them yet. I'm still in Ireland, but there's no sign anywhere. In the house I found medicines and a picture of your team torn apart. As far as Emily is concerned, uh... she didn't look too well-"

"How badly has he hurt her?"

"It wasn't abuse, she didn't look well as in she was pale, seems to have lost weight and had big dark circled under her eyes. Whatever he's doing to her is not physical, as far as I could see." he sighed knowing what the blond agent on the other end of the phone was feeling.

The feeling you have when you try to grab little particles of dust floating in the wind. When they're close and you close your fist, if you don't catch them, you push them further away.

"Why didn't you kill him when you saw him?" he could tell with certainty she was about to cry.

He'd thought about it. A lot. Especially given his history with Emily. "I had no back up. I couldn't risk her getting hurt because I'm reckless."

"So it's better to let Doyle hurt her until you get over yourself." she paused for a bit. In her experience she was about to say something she would surely regret. "What was the medication for?"

"Uh... something called Zantac, supposed to cure ulcer, but it might-"

JJ rubbed her forehead. "Zantac? Are you sure?"

He shrugged "Of course, why?"

"My doctor prescribed it to me when I was pregnant." she thought for a moment. "Whose medicine was it?"

"There really wasn't a name tag over it, but it was on a pile of things amongst which there was a brush and what seemed like earrings, so I think it's safe to guess it was Emily's." he replied somewhat annoyed. "Did you have an ulcer when you were pregnant?"

JJ blew out a breath. "No, I had heartburn, I didn't know it cured ulcer too."

"Well then I honestly don't know what to make of it. I have to go, my flight's in an hour, I'm going back to Boston, its no use to be here when they're not."

JJ nodded, she was going to have to wait for the whole conversation to sink in, for all the possible alternatives they might face whenever they'd kill Doyle. "Right, keep me posted." before he could answer she added. "For real this time."

"Promise. And if I were you I would start to lie better, some of your teammates are starting to question the discrepancies of this whole plan."

"What?"

He shrugged. "Talk to Doctor Reid. If you can't keep it up I don't need to tell you what will happen."

JJ rubbed her eyes and ended the call. She blew out a breath. Did Emily have an ulcer? Was she okay to begin with? Nobody knew and Easter had just blown their chance to get them. At that she decided she needed to tell Hotch first and later with Reid and with everything else that was going wrong in her life. She hadn't questioned how he knew about the team's doubts, but she was well aware of his training as SIS so JJ figured he'd probably put mic and cameras wherever he could. She didn't question his work, not yet. If anything he was the only way to get Emily back and she sure wasn't going to ignore him.

She quietly got up, brushing the dust and dirt from her pants, and went back down to the BAU. She walked silently trying not to draw attention and took a really big breath before knocking on Hotch's office door.


End file.
